Bound By Garlands of Her Own
by Carrie Swinton
Summary: SEQUEL to Bright Star. Hermione didn't think that she would need to stand on her own after meeting Lacie Malfoy, her best friend but secrets, dangers and the disappearance, left Hermione no choice. If not Draco, who is the Heir? AU of CoS.
1. Sweet Order Lived Again with Other Laws

**Disclaimer to JK Rowling**

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**Bound by Garlands of Her Own**

John Keats, from the poem: "_If By Dull Rhymes Our English Must Be Chain'd"_

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**Chapter One: And All Thy Heart Lies Open Unto Me**

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"_**So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip  
Into my bosom and be lost in me"**_

**Alfred Lord Tennyson from **_**'The Princess'.**_

* * *

_Friday 24__th__ July, 1992_

Dearest Hermione,

After weeks and weeks of nagging, Father has finally permitted for you to stay at the Manor for the rest of the next weekend, and possibly even longer, (he's allowed Draco's Troll friends to come without question, sadly, and I am not putting up with it any longer_.__) _Mother is delighted to have another girl in the house as it's gotten a little rowdy, having to listen to boys all day. I didn't know that Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had so much to even speak about, they are worse than us in History of Magic (of course, you would always pay more attention to Professor Binns than me, which is creepy more than anything), and even Nott came over. He and Draco had a nice long, private chat in the Manor's maze (wait until you see the maze, Hermione, it is beautiful! I can imagine the hours we'll spend in there!) and refused to tell me about it. It's all right because there are plenty of things that we talk about that he does not know.

There is so much to speak about, so I hope your parents allow you to go to the Manor. I've told Adelais not to leave your side for the duration of the holiday, as you do not have an owl. Don't fret about her, as long as you let her out every day she'll be fine. I'll be fine too. I'll use my Mother's owl, Athena, to send my post. I also await your reply and I've told Adelais that you _must _write at least half a roll of parchment in response if you cannot go. I want a real reason, none of this... you need to do homework (although, you've probably done it all) or something like that. I want a really good excuse for getting out of coming to the Manor. I've begged (and Malfoys do not beg, as you are fully aware) for too long.

Your best friend,

Lacie.

PS. If you do have homework, the Manor has an extensive library full of information for the homework. I'm just saying.

* * *

_Saturday 25__th__ July, 1992_

Hi Hermione!

I hope you've not overworked yourself too much doing Snape's homework. Now that I think of it, how much have you done? I've done 6 inches and I think that's alright but if you've done twelve rolls of parchment then I'll have to find a way to add more. You know Snape, he already hates our guts, well mine and Harry's, he'll barely look at your essay and then he'll flip when he sees what I've done. Fred and George are no help whatsoever, as they don't really care for Potions, or Snape for that matter, and Percy is holed up in his room. Probably revising, or something like that. He probably wants to take seventh-year exams a year early and prove he's the better Weasley. Even Bill couldn't do that and Percy and Bill have had a friendly rivalry since they were born. I don't see why Percy bothers, though. Bill trumps him every time.

I've been so preoccupied with writing about Snape's homework (he is a nasty git though, setting that work over the holidays. What happened to the fun?) I almost forgot to ask – would you like to come to the Burrow over the course of the next week? Harry's coming too. Well, I've tried to contact him all summer, and I've gotten no reply which makes no sense since he has an owl of his own and could even start writing to me when Errol returned (has the same happened to you? Wait, you don't have an owl, ignore that, well, have you seen Hedwig at all?). I'm a little concerned for him. If I don't get a reply by Wednesday next week, I'm secretly going to save him with Fred and George. I'll spare you the details since Errol may get intercepted and you'll go ballistic when you find out.

Yours sincerely,

Ron.

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_Saturday 25__th__ July, 1992_

Dear Lacerta,

I was wondering if you like to stay at the Burrow for a few days during the course of next week. I already invited Hermione and Harry will be there.

Hope you can come,

Ron.

* * *

_Sunday 26__th__ July, 1992_

Dear _Ron_,

Was that even an invitation?

Malfoy.

* * *

_Sunday 26__th__ July, 1992_

Dear Ron,

I'm sorry, my rude brother intercepted my post and responded to the letter and sent it back before I even had a chance to read your letter, or rather, note. He told me what he wrote, and I can hardly disagree with him seeing as the note had no manners whatsoever and was hardly an invitation.

However, I cannot stay, unfortunately, as much fun as it would sound. I've invited Hermione over to the Manor for next weekend and I hope to have her over for longer. I apologise on her behalf as well.

Since you were not so polite to ask, I have had a good holiday. Mother recently took me Germany for a day trip in Demeter's Gardens. It's so beautiful! The Herbology greenhouses cannot compare to those gardens. Legend has it, that the Greek goddess Demeter pours her love of nature into these gardens each summer because she's reunited with her daughter Persephone. It's a beautiful story that you'll probably won't appreciate so I don't know why I wrote about it. It's probably because I have barely spoken to Hermione, since she hasn't got an owl, and Harry won't write back. It's probably those Muggles, he lives with. I bet they don't let him write to us and take away all our letters to him.

I'll probably see you and him on the Hogwarts Express,

Lacerta.

PS. Could you give Athena some bacon? She's one of those owls that expect to be rewarded once she's done a job.

* * *

_Monday 27__th__ July, 1992_

Malfoy,

Stay out of my business.

Weasley.

* * *

_Monday 27__th__ July, 1992_

Weasley,

Stop writing to my sister and I might consider it.

Malfoy.

* * *

_Monday 27__th__ July, 1992_

Dear Ron,

I'm sorry! I can't go to the Burrow although it sounds like a brilliant place. I am thankful for your generous invitation. I hope I can go some other time. I hope you've had a good holiday too but I suppose you have, because Snape asked for no less than a foot. I also don't appreciate your little jibe, Ronald, since I have only done three rolls of parchment, not twelve. You better find a way to finish that essay, since that alone with give Snape enough reason to hate you.

I don't think that it was wrong with Percy wanting to take seventh-year a year early. I wonder if you an actually do that since that would be a good idea. Ask him if it's possible to do so, because I may try that too.

Additionally, I want you to know that I disagree fully with your rescue mission with Fred and George. You should tell your parents the problem and maybe they'll help you. I mean, we're not supposed to do magic outside of Hogwarts, especially in front of Muggles and Harry lives with Muggles, remember? That reminds me, it better not involve magic, Ronald, I'm not joking! It's illegal and it will get you expelled! We already pushed it enough when we went after the Philosopher's Stone a few months ago and we could have been expelled then. Please, Ron, think about what you're going to do.

Your concerned friend,

Hermione.

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_Monday 27__th__ July, 1992_

Lacie,

I would love to come to the Manor, since you asked so politely and it sounds so lovely at the Manor. (However, I do feel a little anxious about coming. Will your father mind me being there?) I cannot wait until I see the library at the Manor. I've still got a conclusion to do on my History of Magic homework before I finish it but I haven't got many points to conclude it with. I also find the maze interesting. I cannot wait.

I hope that Draco and his Neanderthal friends aren't always around us when I'm there though. You know that I don't like them that much.

Thank you for letting me uses Adelais. I am really grateful since I can't send you letters via Muggle post. I've been trying to get to Harry but no avail. I suppose Harry thinks that I'm ignoring him and won't send me any letters. Ron told me that Harry hasn't spoken to him either, which is strange, since I thought that they would be writing to each other each day, since...well, you know... but I suppose not. Maybe it's the Muggles that Harry lives with. My parents are a little more open to owl post. At first they flinched when they saw Adelais and then Errol (Ron's owl) came and they've gotten used to having Adelais around.

See you next week!

Hermione.

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_Tuesday 28__th__ July, 1992_

Granger,

I heard that you'll be coming to the Manor this coming Friday and be warned. I won't hold back.

Malfoy.

* * *

_Tuesday 28__th__ July, 1992_

Malfoy,

I am not threatened by your childish jibes.

Bring it on, I dare you.

Granger.

* * *

_Friday 31__th__ July, 1992_

Dear Harry,

I'm worried. I've sent you letters by owl post but you haven't replied. Is Hedwig alright? I suppose she could be ill, I just thought that the Muggles you live with would stop you from using your owl or something. I've been using Muggle post to try and contact you and I know it takes forever but, I'm sure that you've gotten at least one of my letters. Lacie lent me her owl so that this letter would be more efficient.

Ron told me of a ridiculous rescue mission he's planning. I told him to leave it to adults and he probably would have but Fred and George are involved and you know the twins. They would never say no to a challenge. I'm worried for Ron too. He could get expelled! You need to write to him and tell him that you're fine and he'll stop thinking about doing something that would mean expulsion. I'm sure you're fine. I'm just being too anxious.

Oh, and Happy Birthday!

Love,

Hermione.

PS. I'll be at Malfoy Manor from later today until the end of the weekend. If you write, I'll be there.

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_Friday 31__th__ July, 1992_

Harry,

Mate, you haven't replied to ANY of my letters. It's worrying! Fred and George reckon that we pay you a little visit and see what's going on (and rescue you). If you don't reply in a week's time, we're coming.

That'll be your birthday present.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Ron.

PS. Did you hear? Hermione's going to Malfoy Manor! I find that hilarious. I hope she finds a way to get Malfoy in an embarrassing situation so that we can talk about it when he starts to annoy us.

* * *

_Friday 31__th__ July, 1992_

Dear Harry,

Everyone's worried for you. Me included! I hear that Ron's invited you to the Burrow (he invited me, but, I hear – well you know how much it wouldn't suit me) and I hope you have fun there. Hermione's coming to the Manor and I cannot wait to see her later today. You know, the way that you can't wait to see Ron.

I don't know why I'm writing to you. You don't write back. It's not just me saying that. Hermione and Ron have wrote to me asking about your owl. Of course, you're probably enjoying life with the Muggles and you want the peace. It would help for you to write back to them before they send me more frantic messages.

Lacie.

PS. Happy Birthday, Harry! I haven't gotten your present yet. Wait until the first of September. It'll be ready then!

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_Madly sorry for the mad space between the two stories, I would have preferred to finish writing the story before uploading it, butttt I'll have to deal with my OCD-ness. I hope these letters are enough to satiate your post-Bright Star hunger ^^_

_Love, Becky x_

_PS: There may be lag between the chapters as I am in the middle of the infamous exam season. Chemistry equations and facts, unfortunately do not learn themselves. How much do I wish I was Hermione right now? 100%, sighhh. _


	2. Crater of European Confusion

**Disclaimer to JK Rowling**

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**Chapter Two**

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_**"Beautiful city, the centre and crater of European confusion,  
O you with your passionate shriek for the rights of an equal  
humanity,  
How often your Re-volution has proven but E-volution  
Roll'd again back on itself in the tides of a civic insanity!"**_

**Alfred Lord Tennyson**_** - 'Beautiful City'  
**_

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"Your house is so beautiful," Hermione managed to say after a while.

Beautiful was an understatement, in Hermione's opinion. It was stunning. Everything was so otherworldly.

Malfoy Manor was a mansion, settled in a remote area of Wiltshire, where no one could admire its spectacular architecture. Hermione felt sad for the locals for not having the privilege of ever seeing it.

"It's nothing," Lacie shrugged.

Hermione scoffed. Compared to her modest Georgian house in the suburbs this house was definitely not _nothing_. It was a _something_ with a resounding noise. Lacie led her into the house and Hermione felt like dropping her jaw on the floor once again. If she had thought that the outside was lovely then there wasn't a way that she could describe the instead. Wood and marble seemed to interweave seamlessly around her. Hermione spun around, taking in the architecture several times.

"When you've stopped gawping," Lacie said, pulling Hermione out of her daydream, "I'll take your luggage upstairs."

"There's no need for that Lacerta," a voice said to the right of them. Hermione looked over as someone emerged from the shadows. That someone was strikingly similar to Draco, albeit, Draco in twenty years. Hermione remembered this as being Lacie's father. "Dobby!"

Something rather small and dirty appeared in front of them and Hermione almost jumped at the loud crack that came with the appearance.

"Y-Yes, Master?"

Hermione stared from the creature to Mr Malfoy and back in astonishment.

"Take Miss Granger's suitcase to Lacerta's room, now," Mr Malfoy said in a bored voice.

The creature scampered over to Hermione, its brown eyes bulging from their sockets in sadness. Hermione took a step back. Hermione didn't want to hand over her bag to it. It wasn't that it was dirty and it would dirty her bag, she just felt sorry for the poor thing that she couldn't bear to give her bag to carry. Hermione also didn't know if the creature was able to carry such a heavy load.

"I'll do it myself," Hermione said to Mr Malfoy, "If you don't mind."

Lacie elbowed her, hard, in the shoulder and gave her a desperate look. Hermione didn't know what Lacie was trying to convey to her. Lacie winced for a moment and said turned to her father.

"I'm sorry, Father, I'll - ..."

"It's alright, show Miss Granger to her room, I will be in the garden with your mother."

He left in a swirl of dark green robes. Lacie peeked around the door in which Mr Malfoy had just gone through. She stayed there for a moment before returning to Hermione.

"Are you _mad?_" she asked as she neared Hermione.

"Mad?"

Lacie nodded fervently and then pulled Hermione towards the staircase. Hermione was confused by what she had meant but she pulled Hermione up two flights of stairs and across a long corridor.

"Yes, mad," Lacie said, the side of her mouth twitched, "Father hates it when people don't listen to what he says."

"I - ..."

"I know, Dobby looked weak and you couldn't help it," Lacie said shamefacedly, "Dobby's been with the family for a while so he's rather used to fetching and carrying, it's what he's employed to do."

"Oh, so he's a servant?"

Lacie looked at the floor. She stopped walking. Hermione touched her arm and shook it slightly. "Lacie?"

Lacie looked up, "I suppose we pay him in lodging and food..."

"He's a _slave?_" Hermione asked incredulously.

"I know what it looks like, Hermione - ..."

"How can you accept something like that?" Hermione whispered.

Lacie looked away from her, her cheeks flaming up and then she turned back to Hermione and her eyes looked slightly wetter, "I know, it's bad, but _what_ can I do? I can't tell Father to give him wages because I know he won't! All I can do it do more things myself instead of Dobby doing it but..."

"But?" Hermione prompted.

"Dobby is a house-elf, and in their core they enjoy working for us," Lacie said quietly.

Hermione wanted to say something but it wasn't the time. She was also overstepping the mark. This was obviously not something she wholly agreed with but she was being rude and making Lacie uncomfortable about it. She needed to control her emotions and realise that this was a Wizarding house and they did things differently. It didn't matter how much Hermione disliked it, it was because it was a different lifestyle to what Hermione was used to.

Hermione forced a smile, "I suppose I'll have to get used to having someone do something for me."

Lacie perked up immediately, "Wait until you see your room."

Hermione paled, "Lacie, I could just stay in your room, you didn't - ..."

Lacie tutted as she pulled and said, "You're not imposing, I'm just being a good hostess."

"But - ..."

"The whole West Wing is for Draco and me, we each have four rooms and we share the towers. Trust me, you're doing a favour to me as I only really need one room."

"You have _four_ rooms?" Hermione asked with surprise. In her own house she only had one small room that was inhabited mainly by her vast collection of books. Lacie nodded as if was normal to have four rooms to herself. Lacie opened the door slightly and closed the door.

"I didn't know your favourite colour was purple."

Hermione's mouth fell open, "H-How did...?"

Lacie opened the door to reveal a room with varying shades of purple in it. The walls went from a pale lilac to a deep indigo and the furniture matched the new colour scheme. Hermione had to forcibly close her mouth so that she wouldn't catch flies.

"It's the same furniture, in essence, but it changes appearance and colour to suit a guest at that particular time," Lacie answered. "I left for Hogwarts thinking that I liked pale blue, but it turns out that I'm a fan of scarlet."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"What? Draco's room is green!"

Hermione shook her head and decided not to get into the middle of their sibling rivalry that was exacerbated by the fact that they were in different houses. Hermione pulled her suitcase into the explosion of purple and delicately touched something to make sure that it was actually there. She couldn't believe that something could change based on how she personally wanted it.

She decided to test the room, and suddenly wanted everything to be bright orange. She closed her eyes and opened her eyes. Purple. Hermione snickered. Of course, Lacie knew that her favourite colour was purple and had someone cast an enchantment. Impressive. Not impressive enough.

Then in the corner of her eye, she saw a splodge of orange. When she turned to inspect it, it darted across creating a long line of fiery orange. Hermione followed it as it tainted everything with its colour and she was horrified to see it there. She hadn't meant to send orange spirals around her room.

"You have to admit you were wrong to change it back," Lacie said, crossing her arms with a smug expression.

"_I_ have to _what_?"

"It's a Malfoy House, Malfoy rules," Lacie sighed, "If only we weren't so proud."

"Er… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have challenged you," Hermione said slowly, not knowing exactly what she was supposed to do. The orange stopped moving and changing colours in its path. It seemed to dissolve into the walls and furniture to show the previous colour scheme.

"Now thank it."

"Er…Thank you."

Lacie smiled, "Now that you've apologised for offending my walls…"

"Do you talk to your walls at home _too_?" Hermione asked incredulously, spinning around to face her.

Lacie laughed, "_No, _I'm not completely crazy."

Hermione chuckled. She didn't quite believe that. She turned back and sighed. "Your house is amazing."

"I'd rather come and see your house," Lacie said, "This is just…"

"Nothing. I know," Hermione finished for her in an unbelieving tone.

x-x-x-x-x

"Draco, could you please pass the salt?" Lacie said diagonally across the table from Malfoy. Malfoy placed the salt in the middle of the table and Lacie muttered her thanks. Hermione felt slightly awkward at the Malfoy dinner table. It was far too formal for her liking, especially for a family who were just receiving a guest. There was no hearty conversation, just the odd conversation.

She felt as if she was missing something, or maybe the Malfoys regularly ate like this, in uncomfortable silences.

Thank God Hermione wasn't a Malfoy, which was the reason why she decided to break the silence.

"These potatoes are delicious, Mrs Malfoy," Hermione complimented, after the light buttery texture slid down her throat as if it wasn't there. "They're probably better than Grandmother Granger's."

Lacie was glaring at her and kicked her under the table. Mrs Malfoy looked completely confused. Hermione closed her mouth and looked reproachfully across the table at Lacie. The kick had _hurt._

Malfoy, who was unfortunately sitting next to her, leaned slightly towards her to whisper, "Mother didn't make the potatoes."

Hermione turned to Lacie and raised an eyebrow. Apparently the Malfoys didn't cook themselves and she got the hint immediately. She didn't dare to inquire further.

"This Grandmother Granger sounds interesting, who is she?" Malfoy asked suddenly.

"She's obviously my grandmother, Mal…" Hermione received another kick under the table. Hermione's eyes watered as she tried not to shout at Lacie. That one that actually, _really _hurt. She knew what slip up she had made and corrected herself. "Draco."

The name felt foreign in her mouth and she could never get used to saying it. Malfoy must have thought that it sounded horrible with her voice and he didn't hide it with his voice.

"I know that, I was just wondering about her," Malfoy said rolling his eyes.

"She's a chef who trained in France," Hermione muttered, pushing away most of the food on her plate as she knew that a house-elf had slaved away on the food. "That's all, but she is a fantastic chef."

"Oh, France," Lacie gushed, "Mother, did you know that Hermione always holidays in France at Christmas? She does – oh, what was it called again?"

"Skiing," Hermione supplied for her.

"Yes, that."

"What is skiing?" Mrs Malfoy asked over her salad.

"It's a sort of Muggle sport, love," Mr Malfoy answered for Hermione, "Isn't it, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione, please sir," Hermione said, "and yes, it is."

"I've heard it is quite strange, you sledge down a snowy slope on two sticks, don't you?" Mr Malfoy questioned further.

"Yes, sir."

"Dear, you seem to know a lot about skiing," Mrs Malfoy said with a smile and she placed a hand on Mr Malfoy's. "I didn't think that it would interest you."

"Ah, you see, Bagman loves it. A few months ago, he wanted to make it Wizarding, have hovering skis instead of ones on the ground – codswallop if you ask me," Mr Malfoy replied, "We already condone too many Muggle sports. We do not need another."

"The only real sport is Quidditch," Draco said.

"I will agree to that," Lacie said, "but ballet is a sport as well."

Malfoy tutted beside Hermione as Mr Malfoy turned to Hermione, "Hermione do you have a team?"

Hermione didn't reply for a moment, as she didn't know what to say. She didn't even know what he was talking about until it suddenly dawned on her what the question must have meant.

"I'm impartial to a particular team, sir, but," Hermione answered as Mr Malfoy started to look increasingly dissatisfied with her answer, "I would support the Montrose Magpies if they were to play."

Mr Malfoy frowned a little before turning it into a smirk, "Impressive."

"I'm also a strong supporter of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team," Hermione said before turning to Lacie and missing the imperceptible shake of her head and exclaiming loudly, "Lions!"

The exclamation echoed around the dark room and Lacie looked completely defeated. The elder Malfoys were staring at her as if she had gone completely mad. At that strangely awkward moment, Hermione felt ashamed and blushed a violent red. She didn't know what possessed her to shout a Gryffindor tradition at Lacie in front of all the Slytherin Malfoys. Stupid Fred and George Weasley for ingraining that habit into her. She blinked, trying to not let the tension in the air weigh on her.

"I hear the Chudley Cannons lost the championship again," Malfoy remarked as he cut through his horribly rare steak. Whether he cut the tension on purpose Hermione didn't want to know, she was just grateful that he had done so. "Absolutely hopeless. Maybe if they spent less money on distracting uniforms and more on better players they may not end up on the bottom _again_."

"They're…" Hermione said but Lacie jumped in to stop what Hermione had to say.

"Weasley supports them."

"Typical," Draco commented.

"And Harry Potter."

"Again, typical." This time was more aggressive, "Saint Potter."

"Draco…"

"_Not_ in front of the guest…" Mrs Malfoy said through gritted teeth and a smile. This made Hermione feel more like an outsider at the dinner table. When Mrs Malfoy looked up, she had a bright expression and had a sweet tone, "Hermione, I heard you came top of the year."

"Er…" Hermione could still feel heat coming from her cheeks.

"She's just being modest," Lacie said with a smile, "she got 112 per cent in Charms, I though you could only get up to 100 per cent but it seems like I was wrong, genius."

Lacie smiled across the table at Hermione. Hermione felt slightly calmer.

"You mean, know-it-all."

"Draco," Lacie growled. Hermione felt uneasy again. She hadn't meant to make Lacie defensive over her and she didn't want Malfoy apologising if it gained his father's disapproval for doing so.

"I meant…" Malfoy started to say.

Hermione turned to Malfoy, "It's fine. Really."

There was another silence. Hermione tried to busy herself by eating as little as possible but it looked rude so she ate a bit more before reverting to eating little bits. She couldn't get over how possibly the fragile creature had cooked her meal. Hermione knew what she was raised like, but it wasn't like this. Mum would have rather starved than let someone who wasn't being paid to cook instead of her, with the exception of Dad. Even Grandmother Granger wasn't allowed to cook free. Mum always had a way of slipping a few pounds under an armchair before she left.

Maybe Hermione would be able to drop a few Sickles for the House-Elf to find. That cleared her conscience a little. She would do that. People did that all the time, didn't they? They left money in rooms when they went on holiday. Well, Hermione's Mum did, at least.

"Your parents must be so proud," Mrs Malfoy said as she crossed her knife and fork on her plate signalling she was finished, despite eating a meagre amount. She opened her mouth to speak again.

"What was their reaction when they found out you were a witch?" Mr Malfoy asked, rather intrusively, cutting off what Mrs Malfoy was going to say.

"Shock," Hermione said immediately before her cheeks went slightly pink, "Disbelief, I suppose all Muggle parents must have the same emotions."

"The Board of Governors have considered not telling the parents of Muggleborns that there is a Magical Society," Mr Malfoy said casually, "Too risky for Muggles to know."

"Lucius!" Mrs Malfoy gasped, "How would the Board of Governors explain the 9 month absence every year?"

"Memory replacement, we make them simply believe that their children are going to an exclusive boarding school and they have already given their consent," Mr Malfoy replied, "Very, very modern but the spells are extremely advanced and complicated. One small mistake and an entire memory could be wiped."

"That's completely barb - …" Hermione started but Malfoy shoved an elbow into her rib just as Lacie kicked her on the knee. Hermione expressed her pain by shouting, "… - ARIC!"

Mr Malfoy looked at her as if she was something alien to his dinner table. "Excuse me?"

Lacie glared at her and tilted her head warning her not to answer. Malfoy's fork rested next to her, dangerously close to stabbing her hand. Mrs Malfoy, however, said, "I agree with her. You can't expect to play God with these people's children because they're born different. I would never allow Lacerta or Draco to be taken in such a manner."

To which, Mr Malfoy said, "Of course, Narcissa. I agree wholeheartedly on the matter, which is why it is still in consideration."

His expression on Hermione didn't exactly say that he was anti-kidnapping Muggleborns. In fact, he looked as if he completely disagreed with his wife.

"Does it matter?" Lacie asked suddenly.

"Does what matter, Lacerta?" Mrs Malfoy asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Being Muggleborn or pureblood?" Lacie said, "We all can do magic, of course, some purebloods have a better upbringing but who is to say that we aren't equal? Surely we are judged by our actions not our blood."

"Lacerta, surely, with all you have learnt - …" Mr Malfoy said immediately but Mrs Malfoy wrapped a pale hand around her husband's knife-wielding hand.

"Lacerta is entitled to her opinion," Mrs Malfoy said with an unhappy face. When Mr Malfoy grunted and returned to his meal, Mrs Malfoy seemed to hide a smile that Hermione noticed, but she doubted that she was supposed to have seen that secret smirk. "Lacerta, are you finished?"

"Yes, mother."

"Well, would you like to retire for the night, and bring Hermione with you," Mrs Malfoy smiled. Lacie pushed her chair back soundlessly and stood up. She leant towards her mother and Mrs Malfoy kissed her quickly on each cheek. Lacie walked to Mr Malfoy and received another two kisses on her cheeks, she went to Malfoy and Malfoy kissed her once.

Hermione froze in her seat. Surely she was not to partake in this strange farewell, was she?

Malfoy leaned over towards her with a sickened expression. "Unfortunately, I must kiss you goodnight. Mother and Father don't have the misfortunate to do so."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" Mrs Malfoy gasped, "How dare you speak to Hermione like that! Don't take it to heart, Hermione."

"I think it better to forgo the tradition," Mr Malfoy said with an upturned lip. "Goodnight Miss Granger."

Lacie pulled Hermione up and they powerwalked to Lacie's room, where Lacie fell on her bed with a drawn-out groan. Hermione stood on the edge and gulped for some air. She didn't like the amount of stairs that she had to walk up in order to get to Lacie's room. Lacie didn't even lift herself up from her bed to look at Hermione.

"Surely it couldn't have been _that_ terrible," Hermione said with a grimace.

"For you," Lacie mumbled, "Father is going to be spinning with anger for the rest of the holidays."

"But, why?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, you said the wrong things, did the wrong things, shouted the wrong things," Lacie said sitting up.

"That's a little rude!"

"There is no conversation at a Malfoy dinner," Lacie said, "Father talks and we listen and speak when we are spoken to."

"I said your mother's potatoes were lovely!"

"Mother would have never been seen touching a potato with her bare hands, let alone, cook it!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I've never exactly been waited on before, how was I supposed to know?"

"Plus, almost calling Draco by his surname, that was rude in itself," Lacie said.

"Force of habit, I'm sorry, and I'm sorry about shouting lions. Really, I forgot that your family didn't like Gryffindors," Hermione said sincerely.

"They don't like much aside from social parties and Quidditch," Lacie said honestly. "I wish you were going to be here next weekend, Mother is throwing her end-of-summer barbecue inspired by Demeter."

"Demeter?"

"Greek Goddess of harvest and fertility of the earth!" Lacie exclaimed, "I thought you would have known!"

"I - …"

Hermione was interrupted by a faint knock at the door, "May I come in?"

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Lacie shouted. The door swung open and, there was Malfoy, leaning on the doorframe as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Now, now, Lacie. Don't you have to be up early?" Malfoy said.

"For what?"

"Miss Belle-Faire."

Hermione didn't need Lacie to tell her that it would be a bad thing for her to not be punctual for her strict ballet teacher. Lacie had it written all over her face.

Lacie groaned, "I have to at least take Hermione to her room."

"It's down the corridor, _I'll _take her," Malfoy said, he stepped into Lacie's room before frowning at the walls. "Scarlet? Lacie? Really?"

"Emerald? Draco? Really?" Lacie imitated Malfoy's tone, to a tee, except it had to be several notes higher as she couldn't reach his low tone. Hermione almost jumped in fright when she realised that Malfoy's voice had gotten lower over the holidays and that he was a few inches taller than he had been when she had last encountered him at Kings' Cross Station. She hadn't expected such a change in him over a short period.

Malfoy grabbed Hermione by the hand and pulled her out, "Sleep tight."

When Malfoy had closed the door behind him, his pulling became rougher until Hermione was forced to pull her hand out of his. She crossed her arms and walked without looking at him. "What's wrong with you, Malfoy?"

"You are _so_ polite, Granger," Malfoy sighed sarcastically and sidled beside her.

"Thank you, as ever."

Hermione stopped at the door of the room that she was staying in. "Night, Malfoy."

"Granger," he muttered before moving his head towards her. For a moment, she thought she felt the dry lips of Draco Malfoy on her cheek but when she realised it, he was soon down the corridor and speeding away.

"Malfoy?"

He waved a hand and shouted, "Goodnight!"

Hermione felt a patch of red, heat up rapidly on her cheek. She touched it and she faintly heard a door slam. Hermione didn't want to smile, but she couldn't control the smile playing on her lips.

x-x-x-x-x

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked as Lacie pulled her down a corridor on the ground floor where glass reached from the floor up to the ceiling. Sun poured in through the windows, causing the pale marble on the floor to sparkle as they moved across it.

"Yes! Oh, it'll be lovely, maybe Miss Belle-Faire will want to teach you too!" Lacie exclaimed, slipping along and making Hermione bob up and down uncomfortably. Lacie was wearing her usual pale blue leotard and her flimsy blue skirt but she was carrying her heavy ballet shoes in her hands, new ballet shoes, which would allow her to start practising to dance on her toes. Hermione had frowned at that idea. It sounded too painful to be an aspiration. She had tried walking on her toes but fell onto the floor with an almighty bump and sore toes. She didn't see the appeal and was not going to try it again.

"Of course, it will take an awfully long time for me to build up the strength to do it," Lacie explained, "but it will be worth it." She pranced along the corridor, jumping on her tiptoes lightly before doing a pirouette and standing in the middle of the long corridor. "Soon, I shall dance for International delegates and the Minister for Magic herself."

"Herself?"

"Of course, it is more tradition for a man to be the Minister, but who is to say that a woman would not have that title? They do the job _so _much better." Lacie said. "Just like Millicent Bagnold, the woman who led Britain into the Light Ages."

"Millicent Bagnold would not be so respected, had it not been for you friend, Potter," Mr Malfoy stepped out into the corridor from a room leading off it.

"Yes, father, I was merely - …"

"Yes, yes, Lacerta," Mr Malfoy said distractedly, "Ah! Miss Granger, how lovely it is to see you!"

He said this as if he had not seen her before with Lacie. Hermione tried to push this cynical feeling aside and greeted him a good morning.

"How would you like to come out to the garden? Breakfast is being served as we speak."

"She was going to - …"

"Now, now Lacerta. You are the one that wants to do ballet, not Miss Granger," Mr Malfoy said as if he was chastising a five year-old child. His face turned from light-hearted into severe after a few moments. "Go."

"But - …"

"_Now_."

Lacie looked terrified and let go of Hermione without saying a word. He had scared her into not even looking at Hermione as she shuffled along the corridor. She didn't even look back as she pulled a heavy door open and went in a room at the end of the corridor presumably her private dance studio. Hermione didn't know how to respond to that. She didn't feel the need to feel so worried, but then again, she didn't know what Mr Malfoy was capable of when he used that tone.

"So, Miss Granger, shall we walk?" Mr Malfoy turned around and opened the door to the room that he had come out of.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said and followed him. He didn't hold the door open for her as he passed through the room and Hermione had to pull the heavy door open herself. After following Mr Malfoy around the corridors for a while in what seemed liked a circle, he opened the door to a beautifully furnished patio where Mrs Malfoy and Malfoy were already eating.

"Good morning, Hermione," Mrs Malfoy said before patting the seat next to her, "Come, please."

X-x-x-x-x

Draco flinched as Granger sat opposite to him, next to his doting mother who chatted with her as if she was another daughter. Draco didn't like how much his mother had warmed up to her already. Draco didn't like how his father looked down at her.

He stabbed his fork into his sausage. He. Didn't. Know. What. To. Do.

On one hand, he hated having Granger around and having to treat her like a guest and having to be oh-so-polite, and to say the right thing. On the other, he wanted her around more. He liked the way that she stood up him, to the shock of her mother and father, and that she was controversial and irritated his father. Father was one not to be scorned.

Then he had kissed her, although chaste, it was a kiss. He ran away to hide the redness of his face that wouldn't cool down. _Why had he done that?_ Thankfully, it was a gesture that Granger understood. It was a polite kiss goodnight. Yet, he was overwrought with embarrassment that she might think that it was different. He went red at the thought.

"Draco?"

Draco looked up to find his mother looking at him with amusement. Granger sat next to her, the corner of a piece of toast just touching her pink lips. He went further red.

"Yes?" his voice was a lot squeakier than should have been.

"Would you like some toast?" Mother asked, raising an eyebrow.

"N-no." Draco's eyes darted from the toast that was in Granger's hand back to the pile of toast on the table.

"Close your mouth, Draco, or you'll catch flies," Mrs Malfoy said rather nonchalantly. Draco shut his mouth and stared into his cereal.

"Did you sleep alright?" Mother asked Granger. Granger chewed her toast quickly. She probably didn't want to speak with her mouth full, where politeness and customs were regarded so highly.

"Yes, thank you."

Granger was being unnecessarily polite. She didn't have to, being a Mud-, sorry, _Muggleborn_ and a guest. No one in the family, aside from Lacie, expected anything from her seeing as she was both common and a Gryffindor. Yet here she was, being polite, saying 'please' and 'thank you' and 'I'm fine, Mrs Malfoy'. The dinner last night had been completely hilarious, watching Granger slip up so many times. Draco knew that she was going to attempt to call her 'Malfoy' at least one time, before Lacie kicked her into calling him 'Draco'. He wished that she hadn't kicked Granger because the way that Granger said his name was like an Anglophone trying to speak French. It was horrible.

Draco tried to think something else because he didn't want his entire thoughts occupied completely by Granger. He thought about scrambled eggs before he had a sudden urge to have some.

"Master Malfoy, your scrambled eggs," a small voice squeaked beside him. Draco turned to the direction of the voice and Dobby was there, holding out a plate of freshly scrambled eggs.

"Er… thank you, Dobby," Draco said taking the plate. "How did you -…?"

"It's Dobby's job to know what his Master wants," Father barked, "Dobby, go back to work."

"Y-Yes, sir." With a crack, Dobby was gone. Draco didn't particularly want the scrambled eggs anymore but he shoved a forkful into his mouth.

"May I be excused?" He heard Granger say suddenly. She didn't wait for his mother to reply before she pushed her chair back and moved swiftly from the table.

"Draco, will you follow Hermione?" Mother asked politely. Draco looked at her as if asking if she was really asking that of him. She returned another look, telling him that she wanted him to follow Granger _right now_. Draco groaned as he stood up and walked behind Granger, who was powerwalking into the garden. Draco didn't particularly want to chase her, why should he? She was the one throwing a hissy fit. Draco waited for her to get lost before he said something. He would give her credit for making it all the way into the maze, but she soon halted for enough time for Draco to catch up to her.

"Go away," she sniffed.

"Smart, telling your host to leave," Draco said, leaning against a hedge. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You can't fool me."

"I'm not Lacie."

Draco chuckled. "No, you're not. But you're her friend, which in her world makes you _my _friend."

"I'm not, so don't say things like that," she muttered. She her cheeks now had a rosy edge to them.

"Alright then, don't throw little tantrums when you want, if you don't like it so much here at the Manor then you're free to leave," Draco said in a very childish way, "I would leave before Lacie had a chance to finish her lesson. I wouldn't want to see her face of disappointment."

Granger flinched and then looked at Draco strangely. She took a shaky breath as if she was going to compose herself.

"Why does he _wear_ that?" She asked after a moment.

Draco tilted his head, "Who?"

"Dobby, why does he wear that dirty tablecloth?"

Draco shrugged, "I don't know, maybe he likes wearing it."

"How can anyone like wearing that thing?" Granger asked, shaking her head at the logic of Draco's sentence. "Would you wear it?"

Draco didn't know how to answer. If he said no, he would look silly for saying that Dobby liked his clothes. If he said yes, then she would laugh and think he was saying it because it was better than saying no.

"It would depend on the situation," Draco said very diplomatically. He had to learn to be diplomatic, since he was definitely going to be the Minister for Magic in twenty years time. Hermione raised an eyebrow. She seemed to see right through him.

"Like what situation?"

Draco had definitely not thought through his half-baked idea. At least in twenty years time, he would have people like Granger under him to think through situations like that. "If I had to do the work that Dobby has to do in a day, then I would probably wear it. Or if I was going to a Greek costume party."

"Or a Roman costume party," Granger supplied.

"Roman?"

"You know, the Romans and the Greeks are almost synonymous," Granger said trailing off.

"I have only heard of the Greeks."

"Right."

"Did you know that some wizards are believed to be descendants of the Greek Gods?" Draco asked her. Granger, being a non-informed Muggleborn probably wouldn't know something as complicated as that.

"Like Demeter?" she asked with an amused tone.

"Goddess of Harvest, apologies to her if she's listening, but I always preferred Athena."

"I'm sorry, what?" Granger asked. "Your mother's owl?"

"Goddess of wisdom and battle strategy," Draco answered shortly, "but yes, Mother's owl is named after the Goddess."

"Right."

"You don't believe a word I say, do you?"

"Nope." Granger replied, popping the 'p'. "There's no logical fact to prove it."

Draco tried to think of something to come back with but there was nothing that Granger couldn't retaliate with. He could tell her that there were some people who were proven to be descendants of the Greek Gods, but then, she wouldn't believe him. For Granger, books and facts were everything. Unfortunately, Draco had to witness that on a daily basis when they were at school.

"What is that noise?" Granger asked, wandering deeper into the maze. Draco rolled his eyes.

"It's the fountain."

"You have a _fountain_ in your garden?" Granger asked with an astonished tone.

"Yes, but we can't go there," Draco said, following her, "No one has ever been able to find the fountain."

"If you can't see it, how do you know it's there?"

"You can_ see_ it from your bedroom, but it doesn't matter how many hours you invest into look for a route to the fountain, you'll never get there."

"Follow the sound, then," Granger pouted.

"Do you really need to tell me to do that?" Draco frowned. "I've spent years trying to find the fountain."

"Maybe it doesn't want to be found," Granger said simply. She walked a little towards the sound, only to turn a corner, which seemed right but the noise of lapping water got further away. She turned to Draco and pulled a face.

"I told you, it isn't easy."

"Why do you have a fountain you can't go near?"

"Grandfather says that it is the Fountain of Fair Fortune," Draco said impressively. Granger just looked confused.

"The, what?" she giggled.

Draco got irritated, "Don't you read?"

She sobered immediately, "Is that in a book?"

"It's -…" Draco sighed, "Never mind."

"Tell me!"

"No, read it yourself."

Granger pulled a face before turning on her heel to walk in the direction they had walked in, in order to get this far into the maze. Draco felt the greenery slide past him and it confused him as it surrounded him in a green haze. Granger was just navigating her way easily back to the garden.

"How are you doing that?" Draco asked her as she skipped along without a care, whilst Draco felt the familiar ache in his temples.

"I remembered the way back."

"How?"

"I threw bread crumbs all over the floor," she said with a sarcastic tone for some reason. It was Draco's turn to look completely bewildered. Granger raised an eyebrow. "Hansel and Gretel?"

"Who are they?" Draco asked, still not understanding what she meant.

"Don't you read?" she asked with the same tone that he had used on her a few moments before.

"Ha, ha," Draco muttered. He couldn't help it if Muggle faery-tales did not interest him. It was like Granger's predicament, she didn't know the stories of his childhood either.

_It's not her fault if she didn't know what she was until this time last year_, a horrible, rational voice said in the back of his mind. He hated those voices that reminded him terribly of Mother. Thinking of his Mother, and how much she liked Granger made Draco slightly jealous. Soon, they were back in the garden and the decking where breakfast had been served was empty. Draco's unfinished plate of scrambled eggs still lay there beside his half-empty glass of orange juice.

"I do wonder where Mother and Father are," Draco said aloud. Granger didn't say anything. She just fidgeted with the edge of her cardigan, as most of the girls he knew did. Draco could hear a banging in the distance and he looked at Granger for a moment. She looked at him with a sombre expression.

"What was that?" Granger asked.

"Do I _look_ like I know?" Draco answered with a question, "I'll go and see what the matter is."

"I'll come with you."

Draco didn't like her following him, but he had no choice. He couldn't really say no, and if he did, Mother would disapprove and he'd be locked in his room until Monday, after Granger had left. He didn't like that idea. He liked speaking with Granger very much, sometimes, when she was being reasonable, like before. He liked speaking at her, and telling her things, but he didn't know why. It was probably because she was so clever anyway, and telling her things that she didn't know seemed to satisfy his ego.

The banging continued, and Draco realised that the noise was coming from the kitchen. He jumped down the stairs, two at a time, and looked around the grim kitchen. Granger almost barged into him, as he stopped suddenly.

Father was hitting Dobby with his stick. Draco stopped breathing in shock.

"You. Are. Not. To. Leave. Without. Permission!" Father said, hitting Dobby with each word. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Draco moved back, he didn't want to be caught intruding on this moment. He had never seen Father so violent, or angry. Even Father's long, blond hair was coming out of its neat ponytail. Draco pulled Hermione by the hand and ran upstairs, until they were in the West Wing. He knew that it would be a _bad thing_ for them to be caught by Father. Father was angry. He didn't need provoking. They panted in the corridor. Draco realised he was holding onto Granger's hand and let it go. Swiftly. He looked over at Granger and she looked like she was crying.

"H-He's not normally like that," Draco said, scared to even look Granger in the eye.

Granger sniffed. "I would like to leave, today, if you didn't mind."

At that moment, Draco didn't want her to leave. They had witnessed something completely unspeakable that no one else would understand. Draco didn't want to stay at home and bear the guilt of having seen Dobby being punished so dreadfully, and hearing his whimpers with each strike. He needed someone to keep him company, despite how selfish it was at the moment, he needed someone who _knew_.

"Don't go," Draco begged, before he even knew it.

"I can't stay, not when - …" Tears started to stream down her cheeks. "That was so awful, Draco! How-How could he - …"

She couldn't finish her sentence. She was so overwrought with emotion that she had called him _Draco_.

"If you want to go, then - …"

Granger nodded and slipped into the room she was staying in. Five minutes later, she was carrying her suitcase. She nodded at Draco and disappeared down the corridor.

Draco received the silent treatment from Lacie for days, as she believed he was the reason that Hermione had left. Draco didn't dare tell her the real reason. He was too scared to believe the fact that his father was the reason why Dobby couldn't walk properly for two weeks and they had seen what he had done.

* * *

_Again apologies for the later-than-usual update. Hopefully this offering of story is okay for you ^_^_

_It's been so busy recently, what with studying, maintaining a social life (Jubilee party) and celebrating that the Queen has been sitting on the throne for 60 years. GSTQ. For my friends across the pond, I recently discovered the pleasure of drinking REAL mountain dew and Coke Vanilla, and Grape Soda! Whaaaat, why aren't these drinks on retail across the UK? They're so fab and nice and :D_

_Anyway, see you next time, _

_Becky x._


	3. The Days That Are No More

**Disclaimer to JK Rowling**

* * *

"_Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns  
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds  
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes  
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;  
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more."_

Alfred Lord Tennyson from 'Tears, Idle Tears'

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Days That Are No More**

* * *

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione shrieked as she saw her two friends walking into Flourish and Blotts. She threw herself at them, wrapping one arm around each of their necks. Harry hadn't grown much over the summer, but _Ron_, it seemed like Hermione needed a stool to be able to speak to him face-to-face. "I've missed you!"

"You too," Harry grunted as he tried to pull away, Ron tutted and waited for Hermione to let go of him before moving away.

"You didn't get into any trouble, did you?" Hermione whispered as Mrs Weasley brushed past her.

"Er… when?"

"What trouble?"

"Why do I get the feeling that I won't like anything you say?" Hermione asked shrewdly, slightly narrowing her eyes. She knew she wasn't going to like anything the boys were going to say to her, especially regarding the renegade mission that Ron had briefly mentioned in a letter he had sent earlier in the summer.

"Because you're - …"

"Hermione!" Mr Weasley said approaching her and shaking her hand profusely, "I've heard so much about you!"

Hermione's eyes widened as she looked at him, "Er… thank you?"

She glared at Harry and Ron who looked like the picture of innocence next to each other. Mr Weasley let go of Hermione's hand.

"Yes, yes, Ron's said so much, about being the cleverest witch in the year, and partly the reason why he got such good marks in his exams, and that you're pretty…" Mr Weasley said.

Ron went a bright red. Hermione tried not to smirk, with little success.

"Dad!" he exclaimed in embarrassment.

"A little embarrassment never hurt, son," Mr Weasley said, nudging Ron with his elbow. He tried to look over the crowd of people standing in front of them before turning to Hermione and asking, "Alone, are you?"

"No, I'm here with my Mum and Dad," Hermione said distractedly as she tried to look for her parents. The childish fear of not being able to see them coursed through her and she found herself remembering the age-old instruction: _If you're lost, don't move because we'll always come and find you_.

Hermione's heart stopped racing when she saw her parents point and giggle at a book cover at the back of the shop. They seemed completely disinterested in the crowd of people that were queuing up to get their books signed by Gilderoy Lockhart. Hermione smiled, relieved of her anxiety.

"It's awfully busy, isn't it?" Hermione said excitedly as she turned to her friends.

"Yeah," Ron muttered, "I wish he'd hurry up!"

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, his fans are taking up the shop, we'll never get home if he stays," Ron said angrily.

"Ron, he's the author for most of the books for second-year," Hermione sighed and looked dreamily into a moving poster behind Ron, "you could be a little respectful."

"He's a git," Ron said simply. Mr Weasley snorted with laughter, but after receiving a reproachful look from Mrs Weasley, he started lecturing Ron on using horrible words like 'git'. Harry and Hermione tried not to snicker beside him. Mr Weasley's stuttering exacerbated the hilarity as he improvised his tirade and gave some alternate, nicer words that Ron could use in the future. Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned around to face her parents.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" her Mum asked, her Dad just stood beside her with an elated smile.

"Er… Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, they're in my House and my year, and this is er, Mr Weasley, Ron's dad," Hermione said quickly and awkwardly, trying to sound as polite as she could in front of her parents and as socially as she could without being teased for it by Harry and Ron later. She winced internally, hoping that her parents remembered that she was in a House called Gryffindor, a fact that seemed to forget regularly, despite being reminded by Hermione. If they didn't remember, they didn't show it.

"You can call me Arthur," Mr Weasley said, putting out a hand for Hermione's parents to shake.

"Nancy," Hermione's mum said, taking the hand for a swift shake and letting go. Her father followed suit, shaking Mr Weasley's hand and telling him his name.

"It's a bit busy in here, isn't it?" Mr Weasley started to say after conversation had dwindled to a halt.

"Awfully so," Hermione's dad said. "Who is this Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"Charles, he's on Mia's booklist," Hermione's mum reminded him.

"Right."

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione, a look that Hermione's mum caught. "We used to call her Hermia as a short way of saying Hermione, but we got fed up of that, and started called her Mia."

"Why not Hermy?" Ron asked snickering. Hermione shot him a glare. Ron recoiled and the smile was wiped off his face. The adults around them tittered.

"'Mione hates all of her nicknames, don't you love?" Hermione's dad said, squeezing her tightly as she said in a mortified whisper, "Dad!"

"Right, right." Hermione's dad held his hand up guiltily, "Where's this other friend of yours, Lucy Mallot?"

"Lacie Malfoy!" Hermione said in an exasperated tone. Hermione's father apologised jovially again.

"Yes, yes. Where is she?"

Hermione looked around for the distinct blonde hair that Hermione could distinguish as Lacie's. Hermione craned her neck to no avail. She listened as her father continued to talk to Mr Weasley.

"It's hard to keep track of all these names she comes out with, there was a Seamus, Parvati and Elvendork…"

"Elvendork? I have _never _said Elvendork!" Hermione interrupted with a giggle.

"It's unisex," Harry quipped.

Everyone turned to look at him with some sort of dumb astonishment.

* * *

Hermione's father was the first to recover. "Excuse me?"

"I-I," the boy flushed, "I don't know, I just remembered hearing it a lot."

Harry Potter was saved from answering another question from Charles, as there was a chilling voice behind him, "Mr Granger, how pleasant it is to see you."

He turned around to see a tall, proud man with a deep green cloak on which looked to be made with the expensive sort of velvet. Of course, Charles was being polite. He didn't think that the cloak looked very appealing to wear, valuable or not, he looked like a blonde _Dracula_ and that in itself seemed quite unnerving. Charles quite naked his turtleneck sweater that he wore that day and he didn't appreciate much the younger boy beside the man eyeing him up like he was an alien. It was only a turtleneck sweater, hardly extraterrestrial at all.

"Mr… Malfoy," Charles said, holding out a hand, only just remembering the man's name. He was the father of the aforementioned Lacie Malfoy. Charles could almost see the resemblance. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

"Shopping, are we?"

For some reason, Charles didn't like his tone. At all. There was something strange about the way that he was speaking at him that made him think that. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Just a few bits and bobs," Charles explained, "I didn't think it would take a day to get some books!"

"Now, now, Charles," Nancy said, curling an arm around his, "Book signings are usually this busy."

"I don't think we've met…" Mr Malfoy said holding out his hand, "Lucius Malfoy, Draco and Lacerta's father."

"Oh, hello. I'm Nancy," Nancy said, twirling a lock of her hair before shaking Mr Malfoy's hand rather firmly. "And no, we haven't. Met, that is."

"Nancy," Mr Malfoy pondered, stretching out the name whilst playing with the elaborate handle of his cane, "A diminutive of _Agnes_?"

"A city in the province of Lorraine," Charles answered for his wife and she started to gently stroke his hand. She looked at him with a little bit of surprise. Charles would happily bet that she hadn't expected him to remember such a tedious fact that she told him, what felt like a million years ago, at the start of their relationship. Mr Malfoy made an unassuming surprised sound. Again, there was something in the way that he had done it that Charles didn't like.

_Don't be so prejudiced_, _just because Mia didn't like his house!_ Charles thought to himself before returning to the conversation.

"My mother loved the city, she spent most of her life there, even during the Wars," his wife said. "She was there during the annexation of Alsace-Lorraine, where she met my father."

She said this in a very soft tone, and not once looking at Mr Malfoy but instead at his son with a strange expression on her face. She looked away once the boy noticed that Nancy was looking at him.

"I heard a lot about Hermione's grandmother," Mr Malfoy said, inclining his head towards Charles' daughter. Mia was talking away as there was a commotion by where Gilderoy Lockhart (whoever the man was) was signing books. "I hear she is a fabulous cook, trained in France."

"_My_ mother," Charles corrected, "She trained in Paris, nowhere near Nancy unfortunately."

"Ah…" There was a disapproving look on his face. "It seems like we're all linked to France. Narcissa's, my wife's, family mainly come from there. She wanted Draco and Lacerta to be raised bilingual, so we hired a governess."

"How charming," Nancy said, her expression becoming more and more glassy. Charles could feel it too. The way that Mr Malfoy was speaking to them was odd, as if had no hope of ever reaching the stage at which he was at. Nancy had just picked up on his condescending tone. So what if his children were raised bilingual? The idea never came across his or his wife's minds due to the fact that they knew that Hermione would learn it in school. Charles looked at his daughter who was happily talking to Mr Weasley.

"So," Charles said, trying to alleviate the air, "where is Lacerta? I would have thought she would be here."

"Ballet," Mr Malfoy said shortly, "_Girls_. I've always said that Quidditch was a far more superior sport but she insists on ballet."

Hermione had often said that Mr Malfoy didn't like anything that wasn't Wizarding very much, and Charles could see that now. He could see that Mr Malfoy was taking a great deal of effort to look like he was interested to speak to them, but really, he wasn't. He _knew _what the intonation in Mr Malfoy's tone was now. Superiority. He was a wizard whilst Charles was not, and only through their daughter were they allowed exclusivity in this elusive World. Charles felt like punching Mr Malfoy in the face. He didn't know the implications of having a Witch for a daughter, having to lie, barefaced, to his mother about where his daughter was at Easter or during the weekends. Letters full of things that he would never, ever know and beyond anything and knowing that somewhere in the depths of England, his daughter was putting her life on the line.

He had felt it. He had felt something unsettling in the middle of June, and he knew that something had happened. Mia had come back a different person, as if nothing had happened before suggesting that she go visit Lauren Fullkomna, the girl who had terrorised her childhood. After spending two hours talking to her childhood bully, Mia skipped out with a smile like she'd lifted something awful from her chest and was ready to carry on going.

Charles looked at Nancy, who stared at him with the same expression. She understood him. She knew that Mr Malfoy thought that they were unpleasant to be around. Charles muttered something about looking around the shop with his wife, to which, Mr Malfoy _sneered_ at him, as if to wonder what a person like Charles could possibly gain from looking in a shop like this before telling him that his daughter was welcome anytime.

_Liar_.

His son looked at Charles with an unfathomable expression before allowing himself to be dragged away. Charles watched as Mr Malfoy made his way over to his daughter and heard him saying, "Mr Potter…"

There was a hushed conversation in which Charles saw Harry get very defiant and the lingering words of his clever, his wise daughter sent goose bumps up and down his arms every time he thought of them for the rest of his life,

"Fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself."

* * *

Hermione stood intransigent beside Harry. He never admitted it, as neither did Hermione, but she was the brains to his plans. Hermione doubted that Harry would survive a crisis like the one that happened at the end of last year, if Hermione had stood with Lacie. Ron stood on his other side. He was his best friend, his strategist and he wasn't going to let Mr Malfoy win this battle.

"I see, Miss Granger," Mr Malfoy said, turning to her. His icy blue eyes seemed to freeze her to the spot but the last thing that Hermione seemed to feel was fear. She wasn't afraid of Mr Malfoy even if she had seen him do the impossible a few weeks ago. "I see you are… insightful as ever."

"As ever, sir."

He stared her down before turning his interest somewhere else, "Arthur, so much overtime, I do hope that they are paying you sufficiently."

"How very _considerate_, Lucius," Mr Weasley said, his blue-eyed stare not faltering under Mr Malfoy's stare.

"My, my, my, how many children are attending Hogwarts _this _year?"

"Five," Mr Weasley said shortly. "Ginny is joining this year."

Hermione looked over beside Mr Weasley and saw a young girl with flaming red hair, like all of her brothers, and big brown eyes. It had never occurred to her to ask if Ron had a younger sibling. The girl, Ginny, went a red that matched her hair and shrunk to the shadows. She kept looking at Harry from the corner of her eyes.

Hermione didn't look away until she felt something push her backwards and she fell into something, no _someone_. She turned around to see Draco who looked rather dumbfounded. It was the first moment where Draco and Hermione could talk to each other without other people knowing since she had dramatically left Malfoy Manor. Everyone else was watching Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy engaged in a brawl that would have shamed Mrs Malfoy from head to toe.

"Draco, er… Malfoy."

"That's my name." His tone was clipped and cool. He didn't even look at her.

Hermione wasn't perturbed, "Where's Lacie?"

"Home."

"Oh, _home_. Didn't she - …?"

"The less you ask, Granger, the less - …"

"Right, I see."

"She misses you."

Hermione didn't get much chance to say anything in response to that as Mr Malfoy came off worse in the fight, strands of blonde hair coming out of his ponytail and his eye looked painfully bruised as he glared at his son. He wiped his robes of dust then proceeded to wipe the dribble of blood coming from his mouth and sniffed.

"Draco, we're off. We do not need to linger much longer," Mr Malfoy said before stopping directly in front of Ginny. He lifted a book from the cauldron she was clutching.

"These hand-me-down books you own, _girl_, pay good attention to them, since they're all your family can afford," he said, throwing it back with disdain. Harry was staring at the cauldron with a frown, he opened his mouth to say something, but Mr Malfoy had already left.

It was rather a strange encounter.

* * *

Hermione looked up the length of the train and back again. She peeped through the windows of the carriages and stared at the people who sat around the small tables. None of them were Harry, Ron or Lacie. Hermione bit her lip with anxiety as she walked into a carriage that was full of Gryffindors in the same year.

"You haven't see Harry, Ron or Lacie have you?" Hermione asked. Seamus gave her a blank expression whilst Dean shook his head.

"Why should _we_ care about them?" Parvati said quite nastily whilst reading a copy of _Witch Weekly_, "_They,_ or rather, _you lot,_couldn't care less if one of us went missing."

"Parvati, stop being rude," Cheryl said, nudging Parvati's knee with her foot, "the only reason that I passed History of Magic was because Lacie helped me. Be nice to her, and Hermione too. We all borrowed her notes."

Parvati gave her a betrayed look before rolling her eyes. Lavender snorted and elbowed Parvati in the arm and they shared a look with each other. Hermione just felt uncomfortable.

Seamus looked at Cheryl as if he had just discovered her and nodded fervently, "I agree. And no, Hermione, I've seen Fred and George but I didn't see Ron with them."

"Thanks, anyway," Hermione said politely. She nodded at Lavender who hadn't spoken up and patted Neville on the shoulder as he sat segregated on the edge of everyone else. He looked as if he wanted to join her, but decided against it. He probably thought that she would leave him alone once she found her friends.

Hermione wandered aimlessly along the long corridor of the train until she saw Malfoy in a carriage with his fellow Slytherins. She didn't want to just barge in there with a group of unfriendly Slytherins lurking about but she couldn't let go of the feeling that something was wrong. There was no reason for Lacie to not be on the train, especially if Malfoy was on it. She rapped on the glass and watched as all the heads in the carriage swivelled around to face her. Pansy Parkinson gave her an unwelcoming glare through the glass and Blaise Zabini looked at her as if wondering what she could possibly want. Crabbe and Goyle just looked gormless, as usual, and Theodore Nott was looking at her with amusement. Malfoy looked at her angrily, as if to tell her to go away.

She wasn't going to go away. In fact, she was going to go in the carriage.

"Malfoy, I need a word," she said briskly and looked at the confused looks of the other Slytherins, "In private."

Malfoy leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms, "I don't want to talk to you in private."

Hermione grimaced. _All right then..._

"Malfoy, it's about that time when I was in the Manor and at night, you - …"

"In private, you said?" Malfoy stood up and nearly knocked her over with his sudden desire to speak outside the carriage. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and smirked. Of course, he probably hadn't told the rest of his fellow Slytherins that he had pecked Hermione on the cheek. Despite it being a formal way of saying goodnight, she doubted - by the look on Nott's face - which Malfoy would ever live it down.

"Where's Lacie?" Hermione asked, as soon as Malfoy had closed the carriage door so that they were speaking in private.

"She's... I'm not supposed to say," Malfoy taunted with a smug smile. _The self-righteous, pompous little rat! _

"You're not supposed to kiss Muggleborns on the cheek but you still do it," Hermione hissed.

"It was a formality."

"Mmm..."

"Anyway, let's put it this way, Lacie isn't on the train," Malfoy said, "or even in the country."

"What do you mean?"

"Father sent her away."

"Away?" Hermione asked, "Where?"

"Beauxbatons."

"Stop beating around the bush, Malfoy, where is Lacie?" Hermione nearly grabbed him by the robes and threw him into his carriage, without opening the door. She kept her hands in her pocket, her knuckles grazing her wand.

"Look it up, Granger," Malfoy said with acidic tone and his face was pulled into a very smarmy expression that Hermione wanted to slap. Hermione turned away so she wouldn't think of hitting Lacie's brother. Malfoy grabbed her by her robes and looked at her with a very strange look on his face, "You better watch out this year, _Mudblood_."

He opened the door to his carriage and slid in. Parkinson was the first one to jump at him and ask him what Hermione wanted, or so, Hermione thought. She wasn't a very good lip-reader, but she could tell by the face that Malfoy looked at her with as Parkinson finished speaking, it was time to go.

Hermione spent the rest of the time alone, with a small table to herself. Sometimes, someone from the same year would pass by and nod at her and ask her how her summer was. Fred and George passed by three times to ask her why she was sitting alone and where their brother was. Either they forgot or they thought they were keeping her company. Hermione sat reading a new Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook when she thought about what Malfoy had said. Lacie wasn't on the train. Or the country. She was at some sort of place called Beauxbatons, whatever Beauxbatons was. Was it some sort of prison? What was Mr Malfoy doing sending Lacie somewhere else when she should be at school? And what had Draco meant, _watch out this year, Mudblood_. There was the age-old insult again, the one that he had sworn to Lacie that he would never use to Hermione.

There was a quiet announcement telling the students that they were about to reach the train station at Hogsmeade and that students should be school robes by now. The few who had not yet changed shot up and down the packed carriage. Hermione looked around her to see for the final time if Harry and Ron were around. She had to tell them that Lacie wasn't there and there was something odd about the circumstances in which she left. Hermione had not seen Lacie she had left Malfoy Manor. Lacie had begged her not to go, and Hermione had told her she would tell her why she needed to leave at the moment. She never told her. She didn't want to put it in a letter so she was going to tell her at Diagon Alley but with Mr Malfoy there, she found it too intimidating for her to say anything. _What if she didn't believe me?_

She was going to tell her on the train but she was gone. Somewhere. Beauxbatons. She sighed. Maybe she would see Harry and Ron at the Sorting Feast.

x-x-x-x-x

"You're not heroes, you know," Hermione said angrily at breakfast the next morning. Lacie wasn't at Hogwarts at all, she had thought that Malfoy was lying or something but clearly Lacie had left. She was extremely annoyed by the fact that Lacie hadn't even written a note, _a note _to explain why she had gone.

How long would have it taken her to write something along the lines of: 'I've left because I rather go somewhere else. Sorry'? Hermione could write that in ten seconds under exam conditions. _Ten seconds!_

"We are," Ron countered, looking too smug despite himself, "legends."

Hermione didn't see the impressiveness of landing on the Hogwarts Grounds in an illegal flying motorcar, after flying across the country in it. She didn't see how Harry and Ron were legends in destroying Hogwarts Grounds and landing themselves another detention before term had officially started. They were on the _brink _of losing points for Gryffindor, but Professor McGonagall had gotten there in enough time before Snape could. It was clear that McGonagall didn't want to repeat of the year before when Lacie had started a food fight in the first week and caused negative points for the first month of term for all four Houses.

"Mmm," Hermione said, buttering a slice of toast. "Sure you are."

Ron had his mouth full as he tried to protest but Harry nudged him in the arm and said, "Don't push it."

"You two are lucky that you are still here and not on the train home," Hermione hissed before she bit into her toast, she swallowed and glared at them, "You've broken some serious Secrecy Laws, people have gone to Azkaban for that."

"They weren't going to throw us in _Azkaban_, Hermione," Ron snorted, "Trust me."

"What's - …?" Harry started but he was stopped as a bright red envelope dropped onto Ron's plate. Ron looked like he was going to drop everything that was in his mouth on it. He went bright red, then pale as chalk.

"Would you like to go to Azkaban, _now_?" Hermione smirked as it started to flutter.

"Shut up," Ron said, his hand trembling as he reached for the red envelope. He looked unsure as to whether he should open it, but after encouragement from Neville, he ripped it open, as if it would take away some of the fear. Hermione covered her ears as the Howler screamed at him. It didn't do much for her, as she could clearly hear what Mrs Weasley was screaming. Ron looked like he was about to be sick, and Harry looked extremely guilty. He hung his head in shame, as if it would do something to alleviate the fact Mr Weasley was facing an inquiry at work.

"That wasn't so bad," Hermione said, after the Howler burst into flames and the smoke from it dispersed into the air. "I mean, she could have said that she was taking you home."

Ron gulped. Harry copied him. Hermione sighed. It wasn't as bad as Lacie's situation where she wasn't even in Hogwarts, but then, she might have asked to leave Hogwarts. Hermione's stomach was tossing and turning. They were supposed to have lessons together. It was far too hard to realise that Lacie wasn't sitting next to her making snarky remarks about the Howler and boasting that she never got a Howler. Professor McGonagall had started making rounds with their timetables for that year.

"Athena?" Ron whispered after a moment.

"Athena, the Greek Goddess of wisdom and battle strategy," Hermione said immediately like a reflex. She ordered the bubbling pool of knowledge to cease spouting information at every question posed, especially the rhetorical ones. She only just heard what Ron had meant.

"No, _Athena_," Ron pointed, "I'd recognise that bloody owl in a crowded street!"

Hermione looked at she saw the familiar shape of Athena as she swooped around the Great Hall. For a moment, she thought that Athena was going to land on the Slytherin table. Malfoy had perked up at the table and looked smug, like he was going to get some form of present from home. Instead, Athena landed gracefully next to Harry. She dropped the letter in her beak on the table. Harry reached for the letter, only to get a reproachful look from the owl. She guarded the letter, puffing out her chest and stepping on the letter with her feet.

"She looks angry," Hermione noted.

"She wants to be rewarded first, stupid Malfoys," Ron muttered, giving her a rasher of bacon. She accepted the slice immediately and flew off with it in her mouth, probably to devour on her own terms. Harry picked up the letter and Hermione swore that she could recognise the writing on the front. A swirl of jealously filled her stomach as she wondered why it was addressed to Harry. The jealously only increased as Harry confirmed what she thought.

"It's from Lacie!"

* * *

_It's mad late, and I'm exhausted, but I thought I'd upload this._

_No more exams! Yaaay! Madly hoping I don't fail everything, especially Maths!_

_I hope you're enjoying the sequel so far, I cannot wait to get back to my 2am updates on ff :) yaaay :P  
_

_Lots of love,  
_

_Becky.  
_

_PS. If you get the Elvendork quip, three Housepoints to you, and a plateful of cookies, and a knobbly woolen sock.  
_


	4. I Was Cut Off From Hope

**Disclaimer to JK Rowling  
**

* * *

**Chapter Four: I Was Cut Off From Hope  
**

* * *

**_"I started once, or seem'd to start in pain,_**  
**_Resolved on noble things, and strove to speak, _**  
**_As when a great thought strikes along the brain, _**  
**_And flushes all the cheek."_**

**Alfred Lord Tennyson from "_A Dream of Fair Women"_**

* * *

_Dear Harry._

_I don't know where to start! Father has gone mad! I don't mean in the simple Malfoy sense, I mean in the sense where he has completely lost his sense. He's crazy, senile, and he needs to go to St. Mungo's immediately! He decided just a month ago that I go to Beauxbatons - which, before you ask Hermione, is a Hogwarts in FRANCE - and the idea that he got me in the school is unimaginable itself seeing as every allowance has been made to make sure that I am made to feel welcome (but the French is killing me, I didn't know how bad I was at speaking it before I came here. I keep getting snickers from my classmates who call me 'the English girl' when they talk about me thinking that I don't understand and it's an actual downgrade from 'Malfoy' last year). It's so infuriating being able to know enough French to understand that they're whispering about me, but not enough to give a snide retort! _

_Father isn't like this normally. He's being very serious. Mother was so angry when I was Portkeyed all the way to a carriage station on the outside of the school (did you know Beauxbatons students are picked up with several carriages throughout the country, so sophisticated!) and she's demanding that I return to Hogwarts and I agree! I will be back by January! I will!_

_Father is being so unreasonable! I wasn't even to write to tell you that I have left but Mother told him that I had yet to give you a present for your birthday. He enchanted the paper so that I can't write certain words on this page or it will go up in flames. Both of them are names. Tell them I will miss them, even R-... Sorry nearly did it! Tell H that I really am sorry, and it would be wise not to send me letters as the magic of Beauxbatons might not let a Hogwarts owl in its wards. Father... He put this awful thing on Adelais so that I can't send letters outside anyone of the Malfoy family. It's horrible!_

_Tell H I'm sorry. I will miss her and even if I have to wait to be there until January, she's still my best friend. Toujours._

_Harry, now I'm writing to you. I don't know what Father is planning but its not good. It's... I don't know. You're the one that always gets in trouble and the fact that Father has sent me so far away means that it must be close to me or else he would have sent Draco away too._

_Be careful. Stay safe. If you do get in trouble, don't let them break you.__  
_

_LIONS, to the end._

_Lacie x_

_x-x-x-x-x_

Hermione's hand was shaking as she finished the letter that Harry had handed to her before reading himself. She was angry, for Lacie and because of Lacie.

_Why did she have to leave? Why wasn't she allowed to say goodbye?_

She didn't understand at all. She didn't know what to do. A single tear fell down her face as she gave the letter back to Harry for him to read. She didn't like how Lacie felt so much of an outsider already, having stepped into the school for two seconds. Hermione didn't want to think about it. Lacie had specifically said that she would miss her, and that she was her best friend.

Hermione wished that she was allowed a second to cry, but she wasn't going to. She knew for a fact that Lacie had done a lot of crying, despite her Malfoy nature and Hermione was going to be positive about it. She was coming back in January. That had to be a good thing. It will be a good thing. It was only a few months.

She gulped. It wasn't going to be a good thing, _at all_, but Hermione wasn't going to think about it.

"What do you mean she's gone?" Ron said looking up from the letter. Harry slammed it on the table.

"A school in France? What, like a different country?" Harry asked, "Is Mr Malfoy mad?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth for a moment and then sighed, "Maybe it's for the best."

"It's not the best! It's - … What was this about telling Harry to be careful?" Ron pointed at the letter, "What does she _know_?"

Hermione froze. She remembered what Lacie had told her at the end of the year. _A centaur made me promise. _

She had to keep her promise to Lacie, even if she had no idea what the promise was about. "I-I… look, Harry walks into trouble all the time, maybe she was being paranoid."

Professor McGonagall was heading for them and Hermione sat up straight. She knew that Harry and Ron were resisting the temptation to look very amused because they knew that it would annoy her, seeing that she was already slightly annoyed at them. Hermione looked at her first lesson, hoping that it wasn't something involving the Slytherins.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that her first lesson was Herbology with the Hufflepuffs. That was an easy morning for her first day back. She saw the same look of relief on Harry and Ron's face and they took one last gulp of pumpkin juice before standing up and going to lessons.

It was inevitable before a certain Slytherin caught up with them.

"Why is my mother sending _you _post?" Malfoy drawled behind them as they left the Great Hall. It was clear that he had been waiting there to ambush them, and for once, he was without his band of merry men. Hermione guessed it was a morning of surprise where anything could happen.

"Don't you have a lesson?" Hermione asked, pulling a face. Confronting Malfoy was the last thing she wanted to do this morning, especially since she had just gotten the most disheartening letter from her favourite Malfoy. Malfoy, as Slytherin and stupid as he was, was still Lacie's twin.

"Charms with the Ravenclaws, actually," Malfoy replied before turning to Harry and saying, "What did Mother want?"

"Not you, obviously, or else she would have written to you," Ron said pulling Harry away. Giving Malfoy one last contemptuous look, Hermione followed them.

"I wouldn't step a toe out of line, if I were you Weasley, or _Mummy_ will take you straight home!" Malfoy catcalled.

Ron's insistence to go to Herbology suddenly grew more aggressive. Hermione had to hide a smile as Harry was on the verge of falling over his own feet.

"How did I know that Malfoy was going to ask us about Athena?" Hermione said, not particularly to anyone but Ron still answered for her.

"He's jealous because we're legends."

Hermione snorted at that, "You crashed a car into the Whomping Willow, broke some serious Wizarding laws and got yourself a detention before school formally started, you're hardly legends, unless you want to be some sort of criminal who couldn't fly a vehicle properly when you grow up."

Hermione thought that the Howler shouting at Ron, and Harry's guilty face was enough to make her feel better. In fact, it made her resent the day before where she had aimlessly searched the train only to be alone for most of the duration of it. She had never felt so strangely alone since the moment that she felt that she wanted to end everything with that moment with Lauren in the dream-task. But, in the deepest depths of her mind, where it was concealed so tightly that no one would be able to know in their wildest dreams, what a flicker of happiness that Harry and Ron had done what they had done. If they hadn't, they may not even be in Hogwarts and Hermione would be alone on her journey to Herbology that morning.

"At least we didn't do _that_," Harry said, pointing at the Whomping Willow as they passed it. It looked as if Fred and George had gotten the school's entirety of toilet rolls and dangled it down the branches for fun. It was the sort of thing that they did. They didn't seem to mind sending off Hogwarts' toilet seats every now and again.

Professor Sprout walked towards them with great difficulty, as bandages (or toilet roll, it was hard to distinguish from such a distance) seemed to cover most of her body like an Egyptian mummy. Striding beside her…

"Oh, no," Harry and Ron groaned.

Hermione didn't say anything. She just stared.

Gilderoy Lockhart was a fascinating specimen. He shook his hair out in the sunlight, his blonde curls looking silky as he glided his fingers through it. His dazzling smile seemed to radiate kindness and ooze a sense of coolness into the surrounding area, and made Professor Sprout seem like Cleopatra. The bandages that were sprawled over his robes seemed only an extension of himself, it was an enhancement rather that something that would deteriorate his appearance.

Hermione giggled.

"Good morning!" Professor Lockhart called, waving his hand enthusiastically. He turned to Professor Sprout and muttered something. Professor Sprout instantly looked displeased. Hermione didn't know why she should. He was so charming and dreamy. Hermione vividly remembered a boy called Riley Sullivan, who was also good-looking and Hermione had thought was charming as well. Hermione shivered, of course, Riley was smitten for Lauren. Thank goodness Hermione had memorised everything that Lockhart had ever written, because he, unlike Riley, was a saviour to villagers and those in peril from Dark creatures.

"May I borrow Harry from you?" he asked as he neared. Professor Sprout didn't look too pleased and walked towards the Greenhouses in a huff.

He gave Hermione a toothy, bright smile. Hermione smiled back, it was her own private smile that deserved every _Witch Weekly _prize it gained, despite how ridiculous the magazine was. She stared at the ground as Harry walked away with Professor Lockhart. She didn't move until Ron moved her away forcibly.

"What's that?" Ron demanded to know, "Urgh! You're _smiling_. Oh, Hermione don't tell me that you _like _this prat?"

"Don't call him that! He's a Professor!"

"If you didn't like him, then why would you say that? You don't mind so much that I called Snape that!"

"Shut up!" Hermione felt herself go a little pink.

"Hermione fancies Lockhart! Hermione fancies Lockhart!" Ron chanted.

Hermione punched him in the arm but he didn't stop. She was getting steadily embarrassed as they neared the Greenhouse where their fellow students were lining up.

"Ron, if you don't - …" Hermione said desperately, grabbing any form of threat that she could think of.

"If I don't, what?" Ron taunted with a grin.

"If you step a toe out of line, I'll have to write to your mother and she'll bring you straight home!" Hermione threatened immediately, remembering this morning.

Ron's jovial face went expressionless in a matter of milliseconds. He didn't have a trace of smile and that made Hermione chuckle.

"That's not funny."

Hermione bit her lip to stop herself laughing at Ron's sombre tone, "It is."

"You sounded a little like Malfoy," he said.

"I don't speak pig," Hermione snapped, quicker than she had thought it. Ron snickered and nodded. They stood behind some loud Hufflepuffs. Hermione had never really had patience for some of the Hufflepuffs, especially Ernie Macmillan who always seemed to have this incessant need to brag. However, if she could put up with Malfoy on a bad day, she could put up with Macmillan.

"Morning, Hermione," Ernie said brightly, dimples appeared immediately with his smile.

"Ernie." Hermione said. Ron grunted at him beside her.

"I hear you were top of the year," Ernie said, "I came eighth in the year myself, which is an achievement I suppose. Where did you come, Ron?"

Ron shrugged, "I got into second year, I don't care about places."

Ernie's smile didn't falter, "Pleasant."

Harry sigh could be heard a few feet away as he walked towards them. Hermione turned around to seeing Harry with his hair particularly messier than it had been five minutes before. Hermione knew that Harry must have run his hands through his hair through frustration. Hermione rolled her eyes. Only Harry and Ron would think that having a one-on-one conversation with Professor Lockhart was some form of torture. Personally, Hermione couldn't wait to confront someone who had met so much in his lifetime.

"Hello Harry, hoping to lead Gryffindor into a Quidditch victory this year? Of course, we don't expect last year's speed again this year. I'm sure it was fluke on your part," Ernie said loudly as Harry approached.

Harry shrugged like his best friend had done earlier, "I just do what the Captain wants and catch the Snitch."

Ernie didn't have time to give a false sort of pleasantry as Professor Sprout shepherded them from Greenhouse One all the way to Greenhouse Three where there was a selection of different and dangerous plants. Hermione grinned. She knew that this day was going to be interesting.

x-x-x-x-x

After a week, the absence of Lacie was taking its toll. Harry and Ron tried to be a good replacement, but they couldn't fill the empty bed in the dormitory. She couldn't get over how Parvati, Lavender and Cheryl had each other to gossip with every night and Hermione had only her homework. Then when something awful happened, Hermione knew she couldn't turn to Harry or Ron because they wouldn't understand. She had to wait until Cheryl saw her desperately trying to get rid of the evidence and everything was explained to her. It was a woman thing. Lacie would be able to empathise with her.

Hermione spent most of her time in the library, not at all feeling well, but wanting to do extra background reading for Professor Lockhart and having to slowly get rid a bad temper from not having anyone to really talk to. Harry and Ron seemed to roll their eyes when they saw her decorated timetable, something that Lacie would probably not have had done. She would have been nice, even if she didn't like Lockhart.

It was the toll of this week that caused Hermione to find herself in the library again, on an early Saturday morning. She found it hard to concentrate when she was near Harry and Ron and when they heard that she was doing extra work, they would roll their eyes and seem to have a telepathic conversation. Hermione was sick of it. It made Hermione wish that Lacie were there so that she could have possible telepathic conversation with her as well. Hermione flicked the page of the large volume that she was reading when she heard someone clear their throat.

She looked up, and wished she hadn't. She forced a smile on her face.

"Malfoy," she said, before nonchalantly looking back at her book. "What are _you _doing here?"

She _had _been nice, after all, she had smiled at him. What else could he expect when Hermione was feeling as down as she was?

Hermione heard the sound of a chair being pulled back and felt her stomach knot in annoyance. It hadn't been an invitation to sit beside her.

"I need peace."

Hermione scoffed. "Can't you ask your minions to leave you alone?"

"As much as they would _love _to do what I want," Draco said in a very superior tone, "they are human beings."

At that, Hermione raised an eyebrow. _Had Draco Malfoy tried to sound quite humane or was he being serious?_ Hermione couldn't tell as his book had engrossed him, which like Hermione's book, was a large tome. The moment she looked away, he spoke again, "And also, Pansy would never suspect me of sitting next to you, which makes this a positive."

"I thought you and Pansy were very close," Hermione said as she turned a page. She could almost hear the growl from his mind.

"I would prefer it if she left me alone," Draco said shortly. "Much like yourself."

"I do leave you alone," Hermione said without emotion, "You seem to like floating around me like a fly."

"I suppose."

There was a small pause where Hermione didn't know quite what to say and then she did, but she didn't want to sound stupid so she closed her mouth.

"What are you reading?" Malfoy asked her as she continued to stare at the page without absorbing any of the information.

"A book."

"Ha, ha. What about?"

"Vampires, Lockhart set us an essay, which I finished but I wanted to do some extra background reading," Hermione said, and the look on Malfoy's face said it all. He clearly had regretted asking what he had. "You?"

He didn't answer. He simply just lifted his book and showed the title of his leather-bound book and it's faded golden lettering. _Descendants of the Ancient World_.

"You're still not obsessed with that idea are you?" Hermione asked incredulously whilst remembering back to the conversation she had had with Malfoy in the maze that seemed a lifetime ago. "I told you - …"

"And I didn't listen…"

"I did some research on house-elves," Hermione said meekly.

"Don't talk to me about house-elves," Draco said, without even hesitating to think about what Hermione had said. "I don't want to have to ruin this morning by shouting at you."

"I think - …"

"Shut it, Granger!" Draco said, slamming his book shut. "I don't want to talk about it!"

"Maybe you should," Hermione said quietly, feeling the presence of the librarian, Madam Pince. "We didn't really get to talk about what happened - …"

"And we will never talk about what happened, alright? Dobby is a house-elf, he disobeyed a master's order and therefore said master punished him! This happens all the time, Granger, but you're too much of a-a… _Mudblood_ to actually know what it's like to be a real wizard."

When he had finished his tirade, he stood up and stormed out of the library, slamming his book onto the nearest shelf. Madam Pince loomed around the corner and seemed on the verge to chasing Draco for mistreating a book like he did. She stroked the book and seemed like the librarian was having a little conversation with it that Hermione didn't want to intrude on.

Hermione sat in the library for the next half an hour trying to read the book, but she couldn't get beyond that chapter. Memories of her time at Malfoy Manor seemed to come back to her, such as certain kiss on the cheek. Hermione felt her cheeks go red. _Why had he done that?_

Hermione realised that she wasn't going to get anywhere with her book and decided to take it out. When she left the library she saw Ron running towards her with an urgent expression on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought I saw a group of Slytherin Quidditch players leave the Great Hall," he panted, grabbing her by the sleeve and pulling her along.

"Isn't Harry supposed to have a Quidditch practise today?" Hermione asked, remembering Oliver Wood telling Harry to be ready for this morning the previous night. They were speeding down the Grand Staircase, Ron was taking two steps at a time and Hermione was struggling to keep her book under her arm.

"Yeah, Wood took him out this morning before I woke up, anyway, if the Gryffindors are practising, what are the Slytherins up to?" Ron asked, "Which is why I came to find you, to see if you knew anything about it."

"I don't."

"Plus, I saw Malfoy in the Slytherin colours."

"_What_?" Hermione was striding past people who were on their way out of the Great Hall. Ron didn't answer her. Hermione didn't want to interrupt his thoughts as they both walked as fast as they could to the Quidditch Pitch. Hermione nearly fell over her feet several times but the urgency brought her to forget that she was stumbling about. Malfoy was on the Quidditch team? When had _that _happened? How had it happened? Hermione knew that Malfoy was one to brag but he hadn't said a word to her… Then again, since when had Malfoy considered her as a friend?

_You are Lacie's friend, and in her world, that makes you his friend, _a small hopeful voice in the back of her mind said. Hermione shuddered. She was glad that she wasn't Draco Malfoy's friend.

Definitely glad.

When Hermione and Ron finally got to the Pitch, they found the Gryffindors and the Slytherins in a heated argument.

"I thought I saw a pig in a uniform, I didn't think it was you, Malfoy," Ron catcalled.

The teams turned to look at them and Malfoy looked smug as he posed in his Slytherin Quidditch uniform. There was a crooked smile that was trying to hold back from being a complete smile. A lift of the eyebrow. Hermione snorted. Malfoy was in his egotistical element and he was loving every minute of the conflict that surrounded him.

"Jealous?"

"Hardly," Ron said nonchalantly, "Of course, you've been jealous of Harry since we started, I didn't think that you actually wanted to be him now. I bet you're a Seeker as well."

Malfoy chuckled, "It was the only available position on the team. It isn't my fault if I was the only adequate enough flier."

"Sure, I wonder how adequate you'll be when Harry outflies you," Ron said with a smirk.

"I wouldn't be so sure," a horrible Slytherin Hermione was sure who was called Marcus Flint said. He tossed a black broom handle from one hand to the other casually. The golden lettering on the handle glinted in the morning sun to reveal that the identical brooms that each Slytherin were holding were a _Nimbus Two Thousand and One_. Hermione didn't need to be a broom expert like Ron to know that it this was a big thing. Harry had a _Nimbus Two Thousand_. The lack of "_And One_" was ominous.

"How did you get those?" Ron hissed, "Those aren't even on the market yet."

"My father knows the right people," Malfoy said, "So, Weasley, I wonder who will outfly who? I know the fastest broom on the market was the Nimbus Two Thousand, but according to reviews from seven different and reliable periodicals, the Nimbus Two Thousand and One is set to be the fastest one yet."

"Broomsticks only fly, Malfoy, you can't outfly talent," Hermione said whilst narrowing her eyes. There was nothing Hermione hated more than Malfoy bragging about how rich he was, or how superior he was. Again.

Malfoy glared at her.

"What do you know about Quidditch? You're only a filthy little Mudblood."

If Malfoy wanted a reaction he certainly got one. Fred and George needed to be restrained from hitting Malfoy and possibly breaking his nose. Angelina, Katie and Alicia started screaming and cussing enough to make a sailor blush. Ron reached into his pocket and of Hermione hadn't been with Lacie for the past year she wouldn't have noticed it. She put a hand on Ron's arm. He was going to curse Malfoy, or something like that.

"Don't."

"But...!"

"It's my fight. Let me fight it," Hermione said softy before turning towards Malfoy and saying with the most deadpan voice she could muster, "Oh, how _original_ Malfoy."

The Slytherins, who had formed a safety circle around Malfoy, stopped cackling and turned to gape at her and the familiar look of perpetual confusion graced their faces. The Gryffindors looked as equally as confused.

_Don't let them break you._ If Lacie was going to give her a parting message, Hermione was positive that she was going to let it be that. She wasn't going to let Malfoy humiliate her the same way that Lauren had done.

"I would have thought that you would have come up with something new by now," Hermione said with a nonchalant tone, and a small shrug of the shoulders, "I guess not."

A brusque older Slytherin shoved Malfoy in the shoulder to say something else, but when he couldn't say anything in response, he flushed a bright pink and muttered, "Shut up, know-it-all."

Hermione laughed and said, "I'm glad you know it, Malfoy." She turned away and, then adding with a smile as she turned around again to add, "I do hope Mr Malfoy does forgive you for allowing yourself to be beaten by a Mudblood as _repulsive_ as I am in every exam."

With that, she skipped all the way to Hagrid's Hut regardless of who was following her, or the Slytherins response to her final words. Whilst being self-deprecating, Hermione had proven that insults were just words. Hermione didn't mind how many times that Draco called her a Mudblood but when it affected people around her like how Ron was about to curse Draco, she needed to step in. The look on Draco's face as she retaliated to his offensive remark was also worth insulting herself.

Hermione turned around to see Harry and Ron bounding over in a fit of laughter.

"You. Were. Brilliant." Ron paused between words to emphasise his delight. "You should have seen his face when you left."

"Wasn't he stuttering a little as well?" Harry asked Ron with a hint of glee, "I-I-I... You-you... Obnoxious, you don't know your place."

Ron laughed as Harry imitated Malfoy. Clearly to them, despite their fancy broomsticks this victory was more worthwhile.

"More like he doesn't know his place," Ron said. "If he was like that when Hermione finished with him, imagine when what he'll be like when you've finished with him, Harry."

"Harry, if there's anything you can do, you have to beat him in the game. I couldn't stand it if those smarmy Slytherins win because of their expensive broomsticks, Hermione said. "I couldn't stand it if they pulled ahead for the House cup either."

Harry shook his head with mock disappointment in their lack of sportsmanship as he rapped on Hagrid's door. Hermione knew that smile. He was worried that he wouldn't live up to their expectation of him and he would disappoint Gryffindor if he lost. He was also scared of the brooms. Last year, he had had the best broom on the market, now he had the second best.

"Harry, brooms only help you fly. It's the person on the broom that counts," Hermione said.

Harry looked at her as if he was oozing with confidence, "I know that Hermione."

Hermione knew that he was faking his bravery because as soon as Ron was speaking to Hagrid in a loud tone, Harry said in a whisper, "Thanks."

"And Hagrid, you will not believe what just happened with Malfoy…"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron recounted his version of what had happened.

x-x-x-x-x

Ron's arm was aching as he polished the trophies in the trophy room. The git, Filch, wasn't pleased with his progress as it felt as if it took him half an hour to get through a single trophy. It wasn't _his _fault though, seeing as Filch demanded a trophy so shiny that if reflected off sunlight it would burn. Ron felt like growling at him. Git. As the night wore on and he was polishing the fifth Quidditch trophy, the time was getting longer and it was taking longer for Filch's satisfaction.

Ron didn't seem to understand this type of menial punishment. Ron supposed it could be worse, he wasn't answering fan mail with Harry. Ron chuckled. As repugnant as Filch was, better him than the arrogance of Lockhart. Ron made a disgusted noise. Lockhart. He didn't know why Hermione adored him so much. Maybe it was the fact that he was an idiot and secretly everyone pitied him. Like Neville. Ron liked Neville mostly because he felt sorry for him. He seemed to always to be alone, even if he was talking to someone.

It was getting later and Ron was really tired by the time he reached the Special Awards for Services to the School awards. He snickered at some of the names. Elyfrindeth Valdestralive was very unfortunate boy, to begin with, Ron couldn't imagine being three and having to spell a name like that. He supposed it was a lot more interesting than John Smith or Tom Riddle. He wondered what Elyfrindeth, John or Tom had done in order to gain their awards and earn them a place of permanence in the Hogwarts Trophy Room. When Filch was still not impressed with the state of the Services trophies, he started playing a new game. He tried to spell his name with each individual name. The furthest he got was with _Tom Marvolo Riddle_, where he could spell, _I am Ro-…_

Ron started yawning loudly, and after one of the loudest yawns that Ron would hope never to make, Filch snarled and sent him to bed. Finally, Ron's aching arms sighed with relief as they hung limply by his side. He could barely open the door to the dormitory and when he did, he realised that he wasn't the only one awake as Harry sat, cross-legged on the floor with a pensive expression – like the one he had had when he had come back from being warned away the Mirror or Erised.

"Mate, what's up with _you?_"

"Ron, I think I'm going crazy."

And when your best friend says something like that, how can you react, apart from, "Grow a pair, Harry. I bet it isn't anything."

He snorted and wiped his nose, only to feel intense pain from his arms.

No one said karma was pleasant.

* * *

_Sorry for taking ages to update! I've had severe writer's block for a chapter further along and I've been working, (partying - hey! I can legally drink, I'm gonna use it to my advantage) and catching up my reading. Exams are long gone, but results are lurking in the too-close future. Ever had that horrid thing where you analyse everything that happened in your exam? Urgh. _

_Hey, at least I have a sort of personal Draco Malfoy to hang around, if Draco Malfoy was an American sports fan who played the guitar and was into Britrock and country music, (Oh, please someone write that fanfiction!) to keep me sane. For now, I'm just sailing ahead, and keeping writing and hopefully will update next week. _

_Love, Becky.  
_


	5. Interlude I

**Disclaimer to JK Rowling**

* * *

**Interlude I**

* * *

Dear Lacie,

It's not fair! I get a quill ready and a fresh piece of parchment and then I realise that I can't write to you at all but I have to write or else I'll go insane. It doesn't help that Harry and Ron are being unhelpful and they're not you. They don't understand if I'm unhappy or upset, or bored. All they talk about is Quidditch, which I know you enjoy, but at least we have something else to talk about. Like Professor Lockhart. He is so dreamy, it's like he shouldn't even be a teacher. I can't learn anything because his smile is so distracting so I have to do a lot of extra reading to catch up on the subject. Even reading his books gets me so distracted on his smile (and it doesn't help that there are so many moving photographs of him in it).

I know I'll never send this letter and you'll probably never read it, but pretending that I'm writing to you has already made my day better. I should do this more often, with or without you. At least I can concentrate this year in History of Magic (99/102 marks, I blame you for the loss of three marks!)

Your best friend,

Hermione.

x-x-x-x-x

Dear Lacie,

Today was really funny! Your brother saw me coming at one end of the corridor and he went bright red, and turned the other way to avoid me. It's because I humiliated him yesterday in front of all of his Slytherin teammates. (I _know_! I didn't know he was considering being on the team – Ron is convinced that he's jealous of Harry and all, but I can't believe that they'd let him be on the team. I mean, he's not even that good… I suppose he's the best Slytherin person but he's the Seeker and that is such a big responsibility!) His fault. He shouldn't have called me a Mudblood, again. (Again, I _know_. Well, leopards can't change their spots.) Seeing his face made me laugh.

What has been worrying me though, is Harry. He said that he'd been hearing voices. That's not a good thing in the Muggle world, and Ron said it wasn't a good thing in the Wizarding World either. I'm scared to go to the library in case Madam Pince would send me to Madam Pomfrey and then I would be questioned for my sanity, but there is no where else to look. I wish you were here, because you'd know. I know you would.

Your best friend,

Hermione.

PS. I'm going to a Deathday Party today instead of the Halloween Feast. I guess I'm destined never to experience the Halloween Feast. I hope a troll doesn't escape again.

x-x-x-x-x

Lacie,

You will not believe what happened!

I'll start with the beginning, the Deathday party. It was horrible, like it felt like someone had just died there and then. It was not worth skipping the Halloween Feast for, but Harry had made a promise. So, we decided to go around 8 o'clock, and that was when Harry started hearing the voices. It was like Harry had gone into a trance, he was running, then stopping and then he was frantic. He was telling us that the voice was going to kill and he needed to stop it. (And we all know that Harry has a severe hero complex). So, naturally, Ron and I followed him. We had to! He was pressing his ears against the wall one second and then looking into space the next.

Oh, by the way, Ron is terrified of spiders. We went to the second floor corridor, right by Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and we saw a line of spiders trailing to a crack in the window. I swear, Ron started clapping his hands and was about to wet himself. It was funny, to say the least.

So, we were on the second floor corridor, and then the floor was wet, probably Moaning Myrtle being her usual self, and Peeves didn't help at all at the Deathday Party (she is so annoying though!) and then I looked into the distance and saw something strange. Something was hanging off a torch bracket and I swear it didn't look good at all. Harry saw it and ran towards it, he was half-panicking and half-relieved, panicking because he was about to confront the source of the voice and relieved that he had found it.

Lacie, it was bad. It was really bad. We shouldn't have been there.

Mrs Norris was hanging off the torch bracket, all stiff and horrible. Like she'd been killed and the but into a freezer and then placed there. If I had ate that night (Deathday parties don't cater for the living) I would have thrown it up all over the floor. That was not the worst though. Above Mrs Norris' frozen body was something written in blood.

"_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.  
Enemies of the Heir beware."_

Then it was like a siren went off around us and everyone appeared around us. They stood around it like it was a show and we were the main event. Of course, your brilliant brother told us that the Heir was after Muggleborns, as he usually does, but the worst thing was when Filch arrived.

Lacie, there is no worse feeling than being called a bare-faced liar and a murderer when you know with every fibre of your being that you're not. It's not like being called a cheat when you glance at someone else's test. It was serious and there seemed nothing to convince Filch otherwise that we were innocent.

However, Dumbledore was able to do that in a minute when he arrived. He took one look at Mrs Norris and realised that we couldn't have possibly had anything to do with it. In fact, after a short, concise examination, he told us (Filch and some Professors too) that Mrs Norris had been Petrified. At that point, I realised that it couldn't be us, because it takes a lot of Dark Magic to petrify someone. Dumbledore explained that to Filch, but then Snape demanded to know where we had been during the duration of the Feast. He wasn't helping at all, to be honest. I know he's your _Uncle Sev _but he could have tried to make us seem like Dark Wizards. He was pushing Harry to tell him the truth about what had happened, like he knew there was something wrong and he threatened Harry to tell him the truth. Except, Harry couldn't exactly tell him about the voice. He should have, but it was weird the way that the voice was following some sort of route to kill something and Mrs Norris was there, seemingly dead (but thankfully not).

Thank Goodness Professor McGonagall was there, who just told us to go to bed, and not to speak to anyone about what had happened to avoid trouble of any sort.

So we did and here we are. Parvati is giving me some strange looks from across the dormitory for being up so late writing. She must think I'm doing homework or something.

Anyway, your best friend,

Hermione.

x-x-x-x-x

Lacie,

I was thinking: what on earth is the Chamber of Secrets? I don't even remember reading about it at all in _Hogwarts: A History_ and I couldn't fit my copy into my trunk this year because of Lockhart's books. It mustn't be a good thing, because your brother was adamant that Muggleborns were in impending danger from the opening of the Chamber. Your brother probably knows.

Hermione.

PS. There's a two-week waiting list on _Hogwarts: A History. _I guess that people were all thinking the same thing that I was.

x-x-x-x-x

Lacie,

You will not believe what the Chamber of Secrets is! It's a horrible little chamber that was built by Slytherin where his Heirs could have little tea parties with the monster he put in there to "purge" the school of Muggleborns! That's just… awful! It also made me think about what your brother said last night, about Muggleborns being next. Would the Heir of Slytherin _really _get rid of all the Muggleborns in the school?

Ron's adamant that Draco is the Heir but I don't think that he has the guts to do something so horrific as what was done at Halloween. He knows _something, _I know that for a matter of fact but I don't know what exactly. Then again, he might not know anything at all, and if he did, he probably wouldn't tell _us_.

I have an idea! It's too risky to put it down in writing, but I have one! Oh, but it would be breaking _so_ many rules! But, I'm a Muggleborn and I could be next so anything I do could be helping. Yes, I'll do it, I just need to tell Harry and Ron.

Hermione.

x-x-x-x-x

Dear Zjart,

He will not budge.

N.

x-x-x-x-x

Dear Nemesis,

I have a friend, it has been arranged for January.

Z.

x-x-x-x-x

N.

It is open. I was right about him.

Z.

x-x-x-x-x

Z.

It cannot be true! He is acting normal, writing to his children regularly, going to work and being excited to spectate for Draco's first match! Z, I will refuse to believe it.

N.

x-x-x-x-x

I saw him again today. He was walking down the corridor with my brother and his other best friend, Hermione Granger.

_Who's Hermione?_

She's this really clever Muggleborn that everyone in the year likes, even some Slytherins like her for because she's clever and that's it. She's not that pretty, with all her fizzy hair and big teeth (she looks a bit like a beaver!) But she's the only girl that Harry will confide in, which is silly because she's not even his friend, she's just tagging around because she has no one to talk to because everyone else only wants homework help off her.

_Harry is the one you like?_

Yes! He's so cute, especially his green eyes. Apparently they're an exact copy of his mother's. My dad always says that Harry is an image of his father, but except for the eyes.

x-x-x-x-x

I hate being compared with my brothers by all of my teachers. I mean, I can't help it if I'm not as clever as Bill, Percy, Fred and George (Fred and George don't even act clever but at Transfiguration, Charms and Potions they're top of the class). Ron gets help from Hermione so he doesn't count _really_, but when Professor Flitwick saw me playing chess, he asked me if I was good as "best-played-game-of-chess, Ronald". At flying lessons, everyone expected me to be able to fly immediately because Charlie was a Quidditch captain and Fred and George are on the team. It's like I can't even make a name for myself having so many in my family doing it before. If the Sorting Hat didn't know who I was, it would have probably put me into Hufflepuff for all the things I am.

_At least you have a family. I don't know who my parents are._

Oh, Tom! I'm sorry! I forgot that you grew up in an orphanage! It must be so horrible for me to complain all the time and you're trapped in the diary. I wish you were here in real life. You're my best friend here. With you, I don't feel as lonely, especially since my brothers all force me away.

_I will never leave you, Ginny you know that!_

Thank you, Tom. I really needed that.

x-x-x-x-x

I hate **her**!

_Who?_

Hermione! Whenever Harry is around her, its like she tries to take all of his attention. Before at dinner she was talking to Ron and then Harry looked me as I passed and smiled, and then Hermione smiled at me and then said something to Harry that made him look away. Then Ron, my own brother, told me to get lost and I had to go! If it weren't for Hermione distracting Harry I would have been allowed to stay and look at him longer! I had to go and sit further down the table where I couldn't almost see him. Urgh! I can't stand her. She deliberately talks about homework or something stupid and get his attention!

_She sounds horrible_.

Sometimes she'll start talking about Lacie, and then Ron and Harry get distracted. It isn't _my _fault that Hermione is so lonely because her best friend left her alone at Hogwarts so I don't understand why it's my problem and why she feels the need to distract Harry.

_Who's Lacie? I can't believe someone as awful as Hermione having a best friend._

I know, Tom. I completely agree with you. Lacie was this girl who was in Gryffindor last year, but according to Ron she was forced to go to a school in France because of her father. Ron said that she was snotty but he didn't stop talking about how pretty she was as well (I'm sure Ron fancies her) and she does ballet. Apparently she was clever as well like Hermione, but she lost loads of points for Gryffindor last year, so I don't see why people like her. I bet Harry does because she's all pretty and does ballet and is clever. I haven't met her and I don't like her already. Her father is a piece of work as well. I don't like Lucius Malfoy.

_Malfoy? I've heard that name before._

Really? I suppose the Malfoys are quite famous, seeing as they're the biggest and most horrible liars in the world.

_What did they do?_

Well, apparently they were Death Eaters, you know, the group of people who used to follow You-Know-Who and do what he wanted. Lucius Malfoy was apparently a bad Death Eater who said he was under the Imperius Curse, but Dad never believed that for a second. It was too coincidental that as soon as the Ministry announced that they were arresting those who were suspected of being Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy handed himself over as being under the Curse and now he's living the high life as a Hogwarts Governor and an esteemed friend of the Minister for Magic.

_Who's You-Know-Who?_

Tom, don't you know?

_I've been stuck in a diary and people don't like to tell me things. They are scared of me._

How can anyone be scared of you? You're harmless and kind.

_Thank you Ginny. Sometimes I get lonely as a diary and people don't speak to me all the time. Who is You-Know-Who?_

I can't really say, Tom!

_Please, I wouldn't tell. I have no one else to tell._

Well… You-Know-Who was a Dark Wizard, and his real name was Voldemort. Twelve years ago, he tried to kill Harry Potter but he couldn't and the spell rebounded onto him and it ended his evil rule over everyone.

… _I see. Is this Harry Potter the Harry you write of?_

Yes, you see why I like him so much. He's so heroic! And according to Ron, Harry defeated You-Know-Who again last year!

_Tell me more about Harry…_

x-x-x-x-x

Tom! I think there's something wrong with me! I keep blanking out, like something's happening. I felt it yesterday when I was walking down the corridor and talking to Colin and I could feel something trying to get inside my mind and I was fighting it until my head hurt. Percy said it was probably a headache, but it didn't feel like it! One minute I was walking with Colin and then the next I was dozing in History of Magic! I don't know what's happening but I can't tell Percy or he'll write to Mum and Mum will ask and she'll find out about you and I'll get in so much trouble because Dad has told me about diaries that write back, but they're evil ones, they're not like you!

_Calm down Ginny, I'm sure you're fine. Don't fight the headaches. Tell me about your day._

x-x-x-x-x

Something bad happened today.

_What?_

Mrs Norris was attacked. I… I don't even know how to write it, but I can only vaguely remember it. Colin told me I was there when the whole school saw her hanging off a torch bracket, but I can't remember it. Why can't I remember it? I remember having another headache, so I took your advice and then decided to ignore it and then that's where I can't remember anything else. Tom. I'm scared. My hands are shaking. Why are my hands shaking? And they smell horrible and there's brown stuff under my nails. It's… what?

_What? What's wrong Ginny?_

Nothing. Gina Debassio just told me there were chicken feathers in my hair. Why would there be chicken feathers in my hair? Tom, did I do something bad? I just looked at my robes and they're torn and there's blood on the inside of them. Tom, I'm scared. I can't tell anyone else. Please help me.

_Ginny, you should calm down. I'm your best friend… just tell me how you feel right now…_

* * *

_Sorry for not updating in ages, I've been quite run down and stuff, but I'll promise a full chapter this weekend. _

_Did everyone catch the 40ft Voldemort in the Opening Ceremony? Or JK reading aloud? I will admit I squealed quite a bit, and was so proud that something Harry Potterish got its way into the Olympic Opening Ceremony. Having said that, anyone else obsessed with sports because its in the Olympics? I've been watching the likes of rowing, equestrial sports, the cool rapids sport, handball, water polo (men in tight pants, what's not to love?), the swimming, volleyball etcetc/  
_

_Anyway, see ya this weekend.  
_

_Love, Becky.  
_


	6. The Form remains

**Disclaimer to JK Rowling**

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Form Remains, the Function never dies**

* * *

_**"To live, and act, and serve the future hour;**_  
_**And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,**_  
_**Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,**_  
_**We feel that we are greater than we know."**_

**Alfred Lord Tennyson from _After-Thought_**

* * *

Draco knew the question that all the teachers were dreading on Monday. He had written to Father and asked him the same question only to receive a short reply. By Monday, Draco wanted answers. He wasn't going to get them from Professor Binns who only seemed content with boring them with useless dates and rebellions of species he didn't really care for. His Slytherin classmates also seemed to be bored into a lethargic state that would stop them from asking the Professor and Draco wasn't about to draw attention to himself, especially since Granger had publically humiliated him.

He hoped Father was right about the last time the Chamber was opened. He hoped a Mudblood died. He wanted it to be Granger. Served her right, the no-class know-it-all. Draco ordered the waves of guilt to recede. He wouldn't feel guilty for feeling that it should be so.

It wasn't until Transfiguration, after seeing people buzzing with information at break, before Pansy (on Draco's suggestion) bullied Theodore into asking Professor McGonagall. Theo cast a resentful look at Draco who was sat next to him, and if not for Theo's burgeoning infatuation for Pansy, then he would not have interrupted the Professor as she wrote on the board. She turned, tight-lipped and looked at him.

"Yes, Mr Nott? Is there a problem?"

"Professor," he chose his words carefully as the Professor was also the Gryffindor Head of House, the diametric opposition to his own, "I was wondering if you could tell me about the Chamber of Secrets."

"I would have thought that a class such as your own would have found out by now, my first two classes asked me the moment they entered," McGonagall said and she looked at something at her desk. She smirked to herself, as seeing that she had the entire Slytherin class staring at her, with desperation written on their faces, she relented and walked around her desk and leant against it.

"The Chamber of Secrets is a secret chamber - …"

"Figured out that much for myself, Professor," Blaise said aloud with a snort. Professor McGonagall looked at him with annoyance.

"Mr Zabini, if you have a problem with way I am answering Mr Nott, then say so, because I will continue my lesson as planned, and I doubt Professor Snape will be happy to disturb his lesson to tell you."

Draco, along with his classmates swivelled around to openly glare at Blaise. Blaise went red with embarrassment and muttered, "Sorry Professor."

"I shall start again. The Chamber of Secrets is a secret chamber, which according to legend, Slytherin built before he left Hogwarts.

"As all of you know, Hogwarts was founded by the four greatest witches and wizards of the time: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. After years of harmony, Slytherin decided that they should be more selective and choose certain types of wizards - …"

"Purebloods," Draco interjected.

"Correct, Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall replied with a grim expression, "However, this caused a rift between the Founders and caused Slytherin to part with the notion that his Heir would return to purge the school of those he deemed unworthy."

Draco didn't want to say it out loud, but he knew what the Professor had meant by the people that were unworthy to be studying at Hogwarts. He said it often enough.

"How would the Heir purge those who were unworthy?" Daphne asked out loud.

"Again, according to legend, a monster that only the Heir of Slytherin could control would be unleashed from the chamber."

"But, how could you hide a monster like that in Hogwarts?"

Draco snickered. Of course they could. Draco could vaguely remember that Lacie had come across a Cerberus in school, and they couldn't forget the troll of the previous Halloween.

"Mr Nott, this is merely speculation. What I'm telling you is not purely fact, the lore of the Chamber of Secrets has been mentioned in history and is highly inconclusive, especially that awful poem written about the Founders."

_Except for the fact it's true and she's frightened of what the opened chamber might mean, _Draco thought to himself whilst biting on his lip. Theo turned to him and gave him a look of curiosity. Theo had been another one who had been always able to read Draco like a book, and vice versa. Draco shook his head and Theo looked away. Draco knew that he had to tell him later.

"Now, I would like to return to my lesson, in order to finish the syllabus in preparation of your exams in the summer."

Draco groaned at the thought. He knew Granger would come top once more. At least Lacie wouldn't be here to try and beat him in every exam. McGonagall stood up and walked back to the chalkboard and started writing again.

"No wonder the school thinks someone we know did it," Pansy whispered loud enough for those around her could hear. Draco didn't even bother lifting his head to acknowledge she had said something. Theo glanced in her direction before turning to her and asking, "Why?"

"_Because_, Theodore, it's Slytherin's monster. Of course we'd be the guilty ones and by we, I mean us… not _them_," Pansy said with as much contempt as she could before turning to the far corner where Cassandra and Aria sat. Draco knew the reason for her change of tone. Cassandra and Aria were best friends, forced so despite their opposite views on almost everything, because they were half-bloods. They were speaking and giggling for a moment before they realised that the rest of their class were staring at them except for Draco, who was keeping his head focused on what the Professor was writing. Cassandra flinched and dropped her quill and Aria had a coughing fit.

"If they were not Slytherins, Slytherins' monster will have attacked them," Pansy snarled. "Dirty half-bloods tarnishing the reputation of our house."

Draco stared at the Professor who had frozen in her writing before starting again, making loud screeching noises. It was not said whether or not the Professor had heard them, but judging by the large amount of homework that she had set them for the next day, she had most likely heard every last word.

x-x-x-x-x

Hermione felt her stomach knot itself, then relax, then knot itself once more. She could barely watch the match at all, even though she knew that Harry was an adept flier. There was something about the way that Malfoy was tailing him, and the sneaky little peeks that unnerved her. She knew that Malfoy had bought his way onto the team. She could see that Malfoy was nervous, it was his first match and he was against Harry, who was the best Seeker in Hogwarts (she wasn't being biased, he really was, no one had broken his record of winning a game in three minutes, yet) and Mr Malfoy was in the stands, watching Malfoy like a hawk.

For some reason, Hermione didn't like Mr Malfoy's presence on the Hogwarts Grounds, as if he had no right to be here spectating on his son's match. There was something so intrusive about how he was sitting there, talking as if one of the most terrible things hadn't happened lately. His concealed smile, which seemed to lurk on his lips, seemed to have a knowing feel about it. It seemed to know what happened and was relishing it for some reason. She looked away from the Staff stands. She was getting as bad as Ron, speculating about the Malfoy family. They had to be innocent.

There was a horrible whooshing noise above her and Hermione looked up. A dark ball, also known as the Bludger, had taken flight and was resisting the Weasley twins' best efforts to keep it away from Harry. It was tailing Harry like a magnet.

"Harry's got himself a rogue Bludger!" Hagrid yelled, "That's illegal, that is!"

"A rogue Bludger?" Ron whimpered as he followed it as it chased Harry. "Surely it's not a rogue one."

Hermione opened her mouth before Hagrid went on, "An' yer can't stop it, or yer'll hit another player, or worse, Harry. It's far too risky."

"Maybe it's being normal," Ron whispered. He had gone extremely pale.

"I know a rogue Bludger when I see one, and lemme tell yer, when Dumbledore finds out who it was..."

"Can someone explain what a rogue Bludger is, or am I going to have to guess?" Hermione interrupted. She didn't like not knowing what something was, even though she wouldn't have thought twice about something about Quidditch, but seeing the looks on Hagrid and Ron's faces deemed it necessary for her ask what was wrong.

"It's a Bludger that has been tampered with," Ron explained and gulped, "Hagrid's right, Harry has got a rogue Bludger, those dirty, cheating rats!"

"You think that a Slytherin managed to enchant the Bludger to chase Harry?" Hermione said, crossing her arms, "I don't think so."

"How do you know?" Ron asked, looking at Hagrid as if Hermione was being terrifically naive.

"First of all, they're too dumb to have pulled this off - ..."

"True - ..."

"Secondly, it would take some really advanced magic in order to overcome the magic in the Bludger, I mean, if it was so easy, why aren't both the Bludgers chasing Harry? Why isn't the Snitch just flying into Malfoy's hand? You might as well, _accio_the silly thing!"

Hermione knew that she lost Ron at accio, but that didn't matter. Ron seemed to think about what Hermione said carefully before saying, "Fine, let's say it wasn't a Slytherin, but who - ...?"

"Don't even think about saying it's Snape, I don't think I could go through that again," Hagrid moaned.

"I was thinking Mr Malfoy," Hermione whispered, after huddling closer to Ron and Hagrid.

"Draco's dad?" Ron muttered, looking over at the teacher's stand where Mr Malfoy and Snape were engrossed in a conversation, "Why him?"

"There's something strange about him, I mean, first Malfoy tells us that Muggleborns need to be careful and Lacie's gone, surely - ..."

"Codswallop," Hagrid said simply. "Remember las' year? You can't keep goin' around suspectin' people. Yer kids! Do kids things and leave the serious things for the adul's."

"But - ..."

"Oh look, Harry's gotten hit! Ow, that gonna hur' in the mornin'!"

Hermione and Ron didn't say much more as they rushed from the stands to try and help Harry, but it wasn't the last they thought of it. As Hermione shot a spell at the Bludger she thought she could see Mr Malfoy look anxious in her peripheral vision. When the Bludger tore apart, and bits of iron dust flew into the air Hermione stared into the stands, and saw Mr Malfoy still talking to Snape and Hermione knew that seeing him looking anxious was a figment of her imagination. Something seemed out of place as she looked away. There was something else that she was missing but she couldn't put her finger on it.

However, with the excitement of Harry actually catching the Snitch and with the painless removal of all of the bones in his right arm, it was soon forgotten, especially as Hermione was trying to stop Fred and George dropping Harry as they carried him like a champion to the Hospital Wing.

x-x-x-x-x

Hermione was with Ron when Harry found them on the Transfiguration courtyard. Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile as he approached and cleared a seat for him.

"Did you hear?" Ron asked immediately before Harry had a chance to sit down. "About Colin?"

"I was there, he was trying to visit me when he was attacked."

"Oh, Harry..." Hermione started but he stopped her from saying anything else as he sat down next to her. Hermione knew that Harry was blaming himself a little from Colin's Petrification. "You shouldn't blame yourself, Harry, blame the person who put you in the Hospital Wing in the first place."

Harry looked at her with a small smile, but she bet that it didn't comfort him much.

"I bet it was Mr Malfoy who set the Rogue Bludger on you, probably wanted Draco to win and when Malfoy junior didn't succeed, he took his temper out on Colin," Ron said with a scowl. "You know the Malfoy temper."

Hermione knew all too well. She remembered the shredded ballet costumes and the many times she had to repair her homework when Lacie had an argument with Ron and desperately needed to rip something in half.

"It wasn't Mr Malfoy controlling the Rogue Bludger," Harry said, averting his gaze elsewhere. Hermione and Ron made exasperated noises. Hermione demanded for Harry to explain himself and Ron nudged Harry for his attention. "Sorry for not telling you earlier."

"Who was it?" Hermione asked, feeling an overwhelming rush of concern for Harry for some reason.

"It was the same person who stopped us getting onto the platform at the beginning of the year," Harry said slowly and pointedly to Ron. He didn't look at Hermione properly. "I forgot to tell you what happened over the summer."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"I had a very strange visit from a creature, I think it was a House-Elf."

"Called Dobby?" Hermione had said it in horror before even realising it.

"H-How did you…?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Hermione said. The expressions of Harry and Ron's faces indicated otherwise.

Hermione sighed, "I first met Dobby at Malfoy Manor…"

"Knew it!" Ron said loudly, causing some passing Ravenclaws to look at him disparagingly.

"Knew what?"

"When Harry told me about the House-Elf, I told him that only rich families had one, like the Malfoys," Ron explained. "I bet the Malfoys sent Dobby to spook Harry out of coming back, or told him to sabotage the Gryffindor match, after all, the Malfoys _are _his master."

Hermione pulled a face. She didn't feel as if Dobby was acting on the behalf of the Malfoys. There was that horrible nagging feeling in the back of her mind as if she was missing something. "Well, think about it, if Dobby knew what was going to happen this year and told you to stay away, it isn't exactly a bad thing, is it?"

"Unless Dobby was trying to keep Harry away, so he couldn't help."

"Or meddle."

"No, I don't think…"

"Just because he's Lacie's…"

"It's not that," Hermione insisted, she remembered something quite vividly for a moment that she almost slid off the bench.

"What is it?" Harry asked, holding onto Hermione's arm. Hermione stared at it for a moment before shuddering a little.

"Dobby deliberately disobeyed the Malfoys, Harry, he was trying to protect you," Hermione said grimly, "Believe me when I say it, you _really_ do not want to know."

The pair remained silent for a moment and Hermione knew that they desperately wanted to know, but they knew better than to ask, or even beg.

"So if it isn't Malfoy…" Harry started.

"Nah, he has got to be involved with it," Ron muttered, "has to."

"Why's that?" Hermione asked.

"There's something about him, even if the Heir isn't him, he knows something." He said this as a group of second-year Slytherins walked past them without their ringleader. Harry and Ron glared at them, a glare that was happily reflected back to them by most of them. Hermione caught Nott's raised eyebrow and Zabini's smirk and wondered what they were thinking as they strolled past at the back.

"Hermione…" Harry said, "Aren't you close friends with Malfoy?"

"He's my best friend's brother," Hermione retorted. "Hardly close friends."

"Close enough," Ron shrugged. "Harry's close friends with Fred and George."

Harry looked at Ron for a moment to consider this, pulled a face and shrugged in agreement. Hermione sighed.

"What about it?"

"Well… couldn't you just _ask _Malfoy if he was involved?" Harry asked.

Hermione chuckled dryly. "That would be the perfect conversation opener, '_by the way, are you the Heir of Slytherin or just pally with him?'_ Come on, Harry. I'm not a walking miracle, you know."

"Oh, well. _You_ think of a way to find out, I'm sick of not knowing what's going on," Harry said with the tone of a spoilt child who was denied of what he wanted. He rubbed his forehead instinctively and frowned. "I want Dobby to leave me alone, so I can walk around school feeling safe, for a change."

"Hadn't it already occurred to you that I already considered an option?" Hermione said with a small smile. She rubbed her hands together to warm them up slightly as a gust of wind blew their way, causing chills to go up Hermione.

"What?" Ron said loudly. "And you never said?!"

"Of course I didn't! We'd be breaking a hundred school rules, not to mention…"

"Been there," Harry said with a nonchalant expression.

"Done that," Ron quipped.

"Won the housepoints, saved the day, spent a week in the Hospital Wing to prove it," Harry finished. "What is it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

x-x-x-x-x

"I hate him."

Hermione tutted. "Hate's a strong word."

"Not for him," the boy on Hermione's other side said, "Pretentious git."

"Stop being mean, the pair of you," Hermione snapped as she watched Lockhart twirl his wand to ultimately drop it, although with a little grace. Her heart swooned as he flashed a dazzling smile in her direction as he bent over to pick his wand up.

"Hermione, you have never been the Vampire, the Banshee or the Yeti. I doubt you can even call me mean, in fact I think I'm highly tolerant."

Hermione didn't want to say that Harry had a point. He _had_ been perfectly tolerant. Sometimes during the Defence classes, Hermione saw Harry's face and almost volunteered herself for being the Vampire, the Banshee or the Yeti. She would have happily taken his spot, but she knew that if she tried, the other girls would do it. Next lesson Lavender would offer, or Parvati or Cheryl, and that was the problem. So Hermione watched as Harry suffered so that she didn't have to watch other girls in her House launch themselves at her favourite teacher.

Even though Harry was irritated with Hermione, he didn't hesitate to move towards Hermione when Snape had paired Ron with Neville. Snape upper lip curled. He looked as if he considered pairing them up for a moment before saying, "Luck's over, Potter." He called over Draco to be paired with Harry and subsequently paired Hermione with Pansy Parkinson. Hermione sighed as she looked over in Pansy's direction.

Neither of the two girls was willing to move to each other. Pansy gave her several pointed looks for Hermione to move towards her, which Hermione returned. There was no way Hermione was going to move to where Pansy was standing.

That was until Professor Snape threatened to take ten points from Gryffindor if she didn't hurry up. Hermione growled for the entire journey across the hall, towards Pansy's smug look. Hermione tried not to glower at her.

"I didn't know you were an animal, Granger," Pansy said with a smile that looked far too smug. Hermione resisted the urge to pull out her wand and hex the girl, so resorted to planting her hands firmly on her hips.

"Shut up, Parkinson."

"I'd watch your mouth, Mudblood."

"Call me that again, and I'll wash your mouth!" Hermione's hand went for her wand, and she held the end of it in preparation. Regardless of what they were supposed to be doing, disarming each other, they were stood ready for battle. Hermione had never disliked a girl more than Pansy Parkinson at that moment.

"I dare you, filthy Mudblood," she spat at Hermione, giving Hermione a little shove in the shoulder. Hermione moved back, pointed her wand at her and said with as much conviction in her voice,

"_Scourgify_!"

Hermione tried to resist snickering as bubbles foamed at her mouth, and as she spat them out, more formed in their place. Pansy screamed in anger and launched herself at Hermione and the girls fell to the ground. Hermione, having recently fought with Lauren in that horrible experience in the summer, defended herself from Pansy's punches and scratches. Hermione tried kicking her off to no avail and they both rolled around, Hermione holding onto Pansy's hair for dear life and Pansy scrabbling, trying to leave a mark on Hermione.

There was a horrible electric shock that jolted through them that caused them to freeze for a moment and allow themselves to be pulled apart by Lockhart and Snape. Hermione was glad that Lockhart was the one restraining her. She didn't struggle as much, as she didn't want to hurt him. Pansy, however, was fighting Snape and refused to stay still for one moment for the counter-charm to be performed on her.

"She started it!" Hermione shrieked across the Hall. She didn't care that everyone else were staring at her as if she was mad.

Pansy had finally had the counter-charm done on her, and screamed back, "You deserved it! No wonder the Heir of Slytherin wants to get rid of your lot! You're incorrigible!"

"I didn't know your troll brain was capable of words like incorrigible!" Hermione snorted, loud enough for people to hear and there was a ripple of laughter that was silenced with a glare from Snape.

"Detention, Miss Granger and ten points from Gryffindor," Snape announced, at her. Hermione couldn't feel anything else aside from the injustice that was happening in front of her. Had he not heard Pansy? Was he condoning that horrible kind of opinion, that Muggleborns deserved to be attacked? Hermione tried not to insult the Professor, as he would most likely worsen the punishment she was to get.

"Ha! Take that, Mudblood!"

"_Silencio_," Snape said, cursing Pansy instantaneously and he seemed to start shaking with anger. "For you, Miss Parkinson, a week's worth of detentions starting Monday and fifty points from Slytherin."

Pansy gave him a look of desperation, and one of those looks that Ron gave Professor McGonagall when she took points of him for having his shirt untucked. It was the look from someone that questioned their Head of House if they were serious about taking points, especially fifty, from their own House and jeopardise their chances of winning the House Cup.

"I am deadly serious, Miss Parkinson, language like that is not tolerated in Hogwarts and I have heard you use it on three occasions in the space of half an hour." Snape turned around to face everyone else in the Great Hall, "If I hear another student using that word, I will inflict the same punishment. You have been warned." His gaze seemed to linger on Malfoy who had gone bright red. He went even redder when he made eye contact with Hermione and looked away promptly.

"What are you all standing there for? _Keep practising_."

Everyone seemed to bounce back, and that chattering resumed between pairs with spells misfiring. Pansy wasn't able to speak, but she didn't look like she wanted to take part in the Duelling Club and disappeared within five minutes of the class resuming to normal.

As Hermione didn't have a partner anymore (the Professors deemed it unsafe for Hermione and Pansy to engage in wand-to-wand combat again) she lingered on the fringes of duelling partners. She could feel the side of her head throbbing slightly and the room span a little around her. She steadied herself.

"Are you alright?" Nott, who was duelling Zabini, turned to look at her and as Hermione fell to the floor. Hermione felt her arms being pulled up against her will. There was a scream and Hermione was being hoisted up. Hermione could vaguely hear Lockhart assuring people he was going to sort something out, followed by Snape offering to do it himself. Then silence. A shout. Muffled noises.

Then Hermione felt herself being carried and that was the end of it all.

x-x-x-x-x

"This is bad."

Hermione opened a reluctant eye. She could smell the soothing scent of lavender around her and she just wanted to close her eyes again. She felt a nudge to her arm.

"Hermione, tell Harry this is bad."

Hermione groaned as she sat up, and rubbed her eyes. It was one of those days where it was neither hot nor cold, and Hermione couldn't decide what she wanted to call it. It was warm with a gentle breeze, but that seemed too general a description, even though that's what it essentially was. They were sitting on a large picnic rug that Dean had produced from his trunk, as though by magic, on a clearing that Harry said he had encountered during Hermione's time in the Hospital Wing. When Hermione asked Harry how he found this quiet place, he shrugged and said that he had just encountered it and it seemed to seem right that he came here.

Damned faeries. They liked to play with wizards, and pull them into their lair. With the lavender and fluffy looking grass, it looked like a faerie place. Hermione lay back on the rug and sighed.

"Ron's right, it's bad."

"So I can talk to snakes, so what?" Harry exclaimed, his arms appeared in the air, as he too was lying down on the rug. "I bet other people can too."

"Other people like, Salazar Slytherin, Harry!" Hermione sat up again. "Not _everyone _can talk to snakes, which is why this is so bad."

"Everyone is going to think _you're _the Heir of Slytherin!"

"But I'm not," Harry said simply, whilst gazing at the sky. Birds flew over him and were reflected in his glasses.

"We know that, Harry, but…" Ron said, sitting up, "You weren't there. It looks like you were targeting Justin at the Duelling Club - …"

"Ron - …"

"Hermione, you fainted from that shock that Snape gave you, so you can't talk! What I was saying, and I believe you Harry, when you say that you were telling the snake to back off, but it sounded like - …"

"Like, what?"

"Like you wanted the snake to attack Justin, that you were telling it to attack Justin."

"But how can people assume that? They can't speak snake."

"_Parseltongue_, Harry," Hermione corrected.

"That, whatever, anyway, how can people say I was egging the snake on?" Harry demanded. His eyes were completely hidden behind the blue reflection of the sky he was staring at. "I didn't even know what a Parseltongue speaker was until yesterday!"

"_Parselmouth_."

"YES, HERMIONE, I GET IT!" Harry yelled, sitting up then standing up and stomping around. He stomped a while longer until he calmed down a little. "Surely I'm not related to Salazar Slytherin, because then I'd be… I'd be…"

"I…" Hermione stood up too, "It's was so long ago, I couldn't possibly say…"

"_You are not a Son of Salazar." _

Hermione stood up and whipped around so fast in the direction of the voice that her head didn't process the change quick enough and she could see the clearing around her go round, and round and round…

"Who are you?" Ron said, he was suddenly at her side, his wand was raised, "Show yourself!"

"Lower your wand, boy," the voice said. There was a rustling noise. Hermione's hand dived into her pocket too. A head popped around from the shrubbery and stared straight at them. Ron's arm flew out in front of Hermione's chest and it pushed her back despite her grabbing her wand and pointing it in the direction of the head.

"Who are you?" Ron asked in a cold voice.

"I know you," Harry said suddenly, "Have we met before?"

"Mr Potter, we meet again…" the head produced a chest, muscular arms and then hooves. Hermione didn't need Ron to push her back, she voluntarily took a step back. Millions of questions rushed through her mind at once. Most of them included something about a centaur. "Where is the delightful Miss Malfoy?"

"_You're that centaur!" _Hermione shrieked and her other arm rose with a pointed finger. She took a step forward into Ron's arm, which was still trying to protect her. "Lacie promised you something last year! You're Firenze!"

"Lacie, what?" Ron turned to her, his arm across her dropped, "What did Lacie do?"

Hermione's arm dropped too, "Something about Harry knowing at the right time, when the time was right." Hermione turned to Firenze, "Surely, the time is right now?"

"I see Miss Malfoy has disclosed much to you," Firenze said, "And yes, the time is right."

"What do I need to know at the right time?" Harry demanded, walking over to Hermione, "What is it?"

Hermione glanced over at Firenze for help but he just stood there. Hermione took a deep breath. "Harry, I don't know how much of this is true, but the thing is, You-Know-Who could speak to snakes too."

"A stolen gift," Firenze said with contempt, "To all the descendants of Slytherin himself. Slytherin stole it from Asclepius, a friend of Chiron."

"So that must mean, Voldemort is my…is my…" Harry struggled for words.

"No, child. You are not, you can speak to snakes because something happened during the night you survived, Mr Potter. I cannot say what, but, this particular gift resonates well with you."

"Resonates, what?" Harry asked.

"He means that the gift is compatible with you," Hermione hissed at Harry before turning towards Firenze, "But how? Surely that would be only so with Slytherin's children?"

"Asclepius is a son of Apollo."

"What has that got to do with anything?" Ron said loudly.

"You are a Weasley," Firenze stated.

"So?"

"You will know."

"Know what?"

"When the time is right, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, you will know."

"Know what?!" Harry shouted as Firenze took a step back.

"Miss Granger, there may be great things for you too, but in time."

Then he disappeared.

For a while, the three stared at each other as if they didn't know what to say to each other but then they muttered quiet things. It was a long time before Hermione said,

"I think we should start on the Polyjuice Potion."

To which Harry replied, "I think you're right, Hermione."

* * *

_I hope you remember that scene in Bright Star, referencing this moment :)_

_Love, Becky._


	7. Civic Slander and the Spite

_A/N: Immense apologies for the long... wait, I've been so busy with university work and the like, and it's so hectic but hopefully I'm settled into some routine that allows me to write more now. _

_Disclaimer to JK Rowling  
_

* * *

**Chapter Six: Civic Slander and the Spite**

* * *

**_Ring out the want, the care the sin,_**  
**_The faithless coldness of the times;_**  
**_Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,_**  
**_But ring the fuller minstrel in._**

Alfred Lord Tennyson from _Ring in, Wild Bells_

* * *

"I don't understand why he wouldn't just _tell _us," Ron said. "Damned centaurs."

They were sat in a haunted bathroom as Hermione stirred the potion in its cauldron. She was barely listening to Harry and Ron talk about their encounter with the centaur that had happened two weeks ago. Ron was fretting over the fact that the centaur hadn't even met him and knew his name and family. Harry was worried over his unusual gift, and how only a centaur believed he wasn't a descendant of Slytherin (aside from Ron and Hermione) when the whole school seemed to have formed an alliance against him. Harry couldn't go 100 yards near a Muggle-born outside of a lesson, with the exception of Hermione, without a herd of people sheltering him or her, as if a single stare would petrify them.

"Who is Apollo, anyway?" Harry asked aloud. It wasn't the first time he had asked this question, but it was the first time he was going to get an answer since he had no initiative to go to the library unlike Hermione.

"Greek God of music and poetry, apparently," Hermione answered.

Harry looked as her as if the information didn't even register in his mind, "Greek God?"

"Yes," Hermione said rolling her eyes, "It's quite silly actually."

"What is?"

"Well, there's the idea that modern wizards are descended from the Greek Gods," Hermione said, snorting, her concentration still focused on the potion, "Apparently."

"What if they are?" Ron asked.

"Then you'd be agreeing with Malfoy, he's the one who's interested in it."

Both of them made noises to suggest otherwise, in fact, they seemed to hate that idea and refuted it immediately.

"Anyway, let's say You-Know-Who was the Heir of Slytherin, it would make sense for Malfoy to know something about it, seeing as Mr Malfoy was for You-Know-Who's agenda," Hermione said.

"Or he was a massive Death Eater," Ron scoffed.

"I was being polite," Hermione said. "For Lacie."

"Oh, yeah, for Lacie," Ron said, as if he just remembered that one of Mr Malfoy's children was their friend.

Hermione read the potion book carefully and looked at the potion and was satisfied with the result for the day. Harry and Ron descended back into small chat about the Malfoys and Hermione pretended not to listen, but she smirked.

x-x-x-x-x

It had been two weeks, no, sixteen days since the Duelling Club. Surely the rumours of Saint Potter being the Heir of Slytherin would have died down by now? Of course _not_, it was so fresh in everyone's mind it was all people would talk about and it was annoying Draco.

"Draco?" a hand waved in front of his eyes as he glared across the Great Hall.

Draco hated being distracted from his reverie. He turned towards the culprit and wasn't surprised. It was Pansy seeking his attention once again. Typical.

"What do you want?" Draco asked lazily, twirling his goblet around, watching the pumpkin juice threaten to spill out.

"Why do you keep staring at Granger?"

"Because he's in love with her," Theo supplied unhelpfully. Draco put his goblet down and glared across the table at him.

"I am _not_."

"Yes, you are," Theo said, biting into his toast, "Where were you morning of your all-important Quidditch practise clash with Gryffindor?"

"Library."

"Granger's haunt."

Draco growled.

"Is it true? Do you love the Mudbl-…?"

"Don't call her that!"

"See?" Theo said with a smile.

"No, I just don't want Slytherin to lose more points by Pansy doing something stupid and unnecessary," Draco turned to Pansy, "Do you want another week of scrubbing the dungeon floors?"

"N-No."

"Well good, I'm only looking out for you," Draco said and regretted it immediately as Pansy threw herself at him, well as much as she could at the table. Theo raised an eyebrow.

Love. Draco wanted to laugh. He was supposedly in love with _that_. He wanted to be sick. Draco was sure that he did not love Granger in any way shape, form or manner and if he was or ever became so, he would throw himself off the Astronomy Tower.

"You may not love her now, but you do fancy her," Theo commented.

"Shut up," Draco said, throwing toast at him.

"Now, now, Draco, you wouldn't want to start a food fight, would you?" Draco glared at the source of the voice and it sent goose bumps all over him.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, staring at the table. He was also telepathically telling Theo to keep his big mouth shut.

"A chat."

"No thank you," Draco said, looking at Granger and drawing his lips back in a confident smile. He reached for his pumpkin juice.

"I wasn't asking."

Draco stared at her and raised his eyebrow, "If you think for one second - …"

"He was just going to go now," Theo said. Draco gave him a look that could kill. Theo looked amused for a moment before leaning across the table and whispering, "If you don't go, she'd make a show of you before grabbing you for a chat, I'm only doing you a favour."

"Some favour," Draco hissed as he stood up to indulge Granger's whim. A hand grabbed onto his robe and Draco looked down upon it.

"Don't go, Drakey-Drake!"

Now _that_ sent goose bumps all over him, but a different kind from when he had heard Granger's voice at his table. These goose bumps were like the ones one got after being violently sick.

"So, er… Drakey-Drake…?" Granger started as soon as they were out of the Great Hall. Draco pushed Granger into the nearest wall and pinned her there.

"Call me that, ever again, and I swear, Lacie's friend or not, I will kill you with my bare hands," Draco threatened with as much vehemence in his voice as he could.

"Fine, fine!" Granger shrugged his arms off and looked slightly worried for herself. She looked at him at an angle and assessed his temper for a moment. Draco breathed quite heavily for a while to see if she was going to say something. She didn't.

"What?"

"You're in Slytherin, right?"

Draco took a step back, his hand raising to his mouth in confusion and he looked at her. She looked deadly serious in her question. Draco looked down towards his silver and green tie and then back up at Granger.

"Are you being funny?"

"Your whole family have been in Slytherin, am I correct?"

"Is this what you want to ask?"

"Yes, have your whole family been in Slytherin?" she asked again.

"No."

"_Aside _from Lacie."

"Well, then, yes."

"Then wouldn't someone in your family know who the Heir of Slytherin was?" she inquired further, turning to face him. Draco sighed. Was she really asking him that in front of anyone to hear in the Entrance Hall? He grabbed her arm.

"Even if I did, Granger, you'd be the last person I'd tell."

It came out as a growl and Granger's eyes widened to Draco's shock. She wrenched her arm out of his grip and wiped the sleeve of her robe down. She glared at him. "Fine, I won't ask you about the Heir."

"Is that all?" Draco looked at her. He could tell by her expression that there was something else.

"Say, Malfoy…"

"What?" Draco said with an exasperated tone. He really didn't have to do this. It was a Friday morning. He had better things to do on a Friday morning before lessons, namely to stay out of people's way. Granger's way in particular.

"You believe that wizards are descendants of the Greek Gods, don't you?"

Draco sighed, "No, I don't."

"Don't you?"

"I _know_ wizards are descendants of the Greek Gods," Draco supplied for her with a sniff of arrogance. "Why? I thought you didn't care."

"I don't, I was just curious…"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I was wondering if you would know who would be a descendant of a Greek God."

_There it is…_

"Like who?"

"Apollo."

Draco threw back his head and laughed to Granger's disgust, "You can't just simply _find _a descendant of the Big Twelve."

"Big Twelve?" Granger asked, her big brown eyes looking completely lost.

"Don't you know? I was sure when you mentioned Apollo, who by the way is not as noble as say, _Artemis_, you would have some sort of knowledge…"

"Well I don't know, and I don't want to," Granger said hotly, "What about Apollo?"

Draco scoffed, he knew with every fibre of his being that the next time that he saw Granger would be in the library, with a smug look on her face, as if to say that she knew something that he did. Of course, he always would have something better about the matter.

"Why don't you go to the library, Granger?" Draco suggested with an airy voice. Granger opened her mouth to say something but Draco raised a hand to stop her, a move that his father often employed with his mother, "Now, I have breakfast to finish… although, I may not be able to stomach food after being so long near…"

Granger's eyes widened and blinked. She went bright red and started to fume, "I positively despise you, Malfoy!"

"I, really, couldn't care less," Malfoy said nonchalantly and turned away from her to return to the Great Hall with a wide grin on his face, his day looking brighter already.

_Oh the joys of annoying Granger._

x-x-x-x-x-x

_I hate him. I hate him. I hate HIM._

Hermione chopped all of her lemongrass quickly and neatly in her fury.

_Who is _he _to say that I make him sick? He makes_ me _sick, if I have to be in his presence ever again, I will positively be sick all over the place!_

"Hermione?"

Hermione could barely hear anything aside from her thoughts, and she crushed garlic cloves, thinking Malfoy's face as the clove and she could feel waves of satisfaction as she crushed each one.

_He is so abhorrent, he thinks that he is so perfect, urgh, I hate the arrogant, loathsome creature. I swear, if he so much comes near me one more time…_

Hermione added the lemongrass and garlic cloves to her potion and gave it several stirs before she left it to simmer. She wiped her silver knife down and frowned at the smell of the garlic.

_If he so much comes near me and insults me, I will curse him so horribly that he will projectile vomit. From his ears. And I will stand there and laugh at him._

"…Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor?" Hermione looked up from her cloth and looked at Snape, who seemed to look as if there was a bad smell around him.

_It's the garlic._

"If I wanted you to babble aloud I would give you Babbling Beverage, but since I have not, please keep your mutterings to yourself, or I will deduct points for disrupting my lesson," the Professor said with his most disparaging tone.

Hermione stared at the Professor for a moment, and then realised what he had just said, and what she had been saying aloud. She looked around at her classmates, the Slytherins looked gleeful at the prospect of a Gryffindor losing points, Lavender Brown looked ecstatic Hermione was getting told off, and Draco… he looked every bit of smug that he could. That was only because, the only person aside from her that knew who was she muttering about, was Draco, and he looked elated she was getting so wound up, because of him.

Snape went to turn away, but then looked back, this time, he seemed to be restraining himself from a smirk, "And if I ever see anyone in this school, projectile vomit from their ears, I will assume it was you who cursed them and I will give you the most unpleasant of punishments for detention for a week. Is that understood?"

Hermione went further red. "Yes sir."

After Snape was out of earshot, Harry and Ron moved closer to her cauldron, as if to ask for help, but as soon as Hermione could see the snickers she turned away.

"Hermione?"

"Shut up."

"I didn't know you could projectile vomit from your ears."

"Is there even a curse?"

"Shut up."

"Imagine the mess," Ron said, his voice coloured with amusement.

"Right, that's it, when -…"

"_Hermes."_

Hermione's ear pricked up for the sound of fizzing, something that she was looking out for before she ducked down and navigated to Snape's personal potion store. Since Harry was paranoid that Snape could read thoughts, they had formulated a plan, where they were not to think of stealing from Snape until the code word had been said. If Harry's paranoia were true, that would allow Snape one second of realising what they were going to do before chaos erupted. It was fortunate they were doing something as messy as a Swelling Solution.

_Bang! _

Hermione was bordering the door to the store when potion flew everywhere. As soon as she saw Snape rushing towards Draco's cauldron, she slipped wordlessly behind the door, as if she were not there.

The store was like the inside of a chimney and seemed to go on forever upwards. That was an exaggeration, but it took Hermione to squint to be able to see the topmost shelf. She then looked at the labels.

_Damn! They're all alphabetical!_

Trust Snape to take his obsessive need for order right into his own Potions store. The alphabetical nature of his Potions store started at the top, with _Zebra Tail Hair_ featuring on the bottom shelves. It made it easier for him to locate his things, but finding what she needed would mean climbing up.

After years of scouring through libraries and dictionaries, Hermione was proud to say she would be able to find what she needed to rather quickly. But then, did Snape have "_Boomslang Skin (Shredded)" _or did he feature it as "_Shredded Boomslang Skin"? _

_You don't have time consider it!_

Hermione scaled the ladder and scanned the letters as it zoomed up the alphabet. As soon as she reached "C" she paused and looked. She could just about see something relating to Boomslang and reached for it. Even if it wasn't shredded, she would be able to shred it herself. It was a difficult process. She grabbed as much as she thought would be necessary and then went for the Bicorn Horn. Again, her mind was wondering about Snape's method of alphabetising it, but she had no time. Snape could be on her tail in a matter of seconds. Her eyes flew around the shelves and she could faintly see it.

She reached for the jar without hesitation, not even caring that she was grabbing the entire thing. She then ran down the ladder, as fast as one could descend on a ladder – a practise that hours at a library at enabled – and shoved her loot up her robes and slipped out of the store cupboard.

Thank Merlin, everyone was still preoccupied with the explosion of the Swelling Solution. Hermione tried to force back a giggle as she saw Malfoy's nose drooping beyond anything that she could imagine. Harry and Ron looked relieved as soon as they saw Hermione leave the store cupboard with a rather noticeable bulge.

"Snape didn't see?" Hermione whispered.

"Preoccupied, you should have seen Pansy's face, it was one of the funniest things I ever - …"

"If I ever catch the person responsible…" Snape drawled out his sentence, giving the class a piercing look and focusing his look on Harry and Ron, "they would be expelled quicker than my self-cleaning robes could clean themselves."

x-x-x-x-x

Harry was beginning to get restless. He was sure that some unseen force was following him. At first, he thought it was Snape that was hiding around the corners of the paths that he was taking. As Dudley often referred to it, he "shit a brick" when he thought it was Snape tailing him. He didn't know the sensation of expelling a brick and why Dudley said it when he was with his friends, but it was something Dudley said when he felt an intense shock or fear. That was how Harry felt when he thought Snape was tailing him.

But then he asked Hermione and Ron to follow Snape, to catch Snape following Harry, to get rid of the paranoia. But then it had it on their authority that Snape the only thing that Snape followed was his structured and monotonous life. After lessons he stayed in his office, then at seven o'clock went to dinner, went to the staff room then went back to his office before retiring to his quarters in the dungeons. That was every single day of the week. On weekends he stayed and brewed potions and read books for amusement. Even Hermione said that he was more a boring person that she was, and coming from Hermione, that was a lot.

So it wasn't Snape. So Harry felt slightly more eased.

Then he went through his personal list of stalkers. The most recent was Dobby, so he tried to test this theory. On his own, without telling his friends what he was doing to not worry them, he set out to test Dobby. Dobby wanted him injured after all, so that they would send him back to the Dursleys, didn't he? Harry went and did all sorts of reckless things. Standing on the very edge of the structure in the clock tower, where if he fell, he'd be sure to have a terrible neck and back injury. He balanced along the battlements of the tallest places students were allowed without getting into trouble. He climbed trees. He was tempted to provoke the Whomping Willow, but that was one reckless thing too far.

So it wasn't Dobby.

_Then who is it?_

"Harry?"

Harry jerked up and a brick like object dropped in his stomach and he fell off the pier he was sitting on, on the edge of the Black Lake and fell into the Lake. He had effectively shit a brick. Thank God he could swim and kicked as hard as he could until his head broke the water's surface. Thank God this part of the lake was relatively shallow.

"Harry!" A hand was visible and Harry, not caring if it was someone who hated his guts, reached for it and used it as help to be pulled up back onto the wooden structure. Harry gulped his thanks.

"I'm so sorry Harry, I didn't mean to disturb you, I'm so, so, so sorry!"

Harry gave up wiping his glasses on his wet robes because it wasn't helping at all. He tried to peer through the lenses to no avail.

"I don't mean to be rude, but who are you? I can't see anything through these - …"

"Here let me."

Harry felt his glasses being taken off his face. If things were blurry before, things were even blurrier now. Harry instinctively went towards the blob he assumed as the person who had taken his glasses.

"Here."

Harry felt something on his hand he looked towards the reddish-black blob and felt metal around his face. He jerked back a little only to have his vision restored.

"Ginny?"

"Harry, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean - …" her arms started flapping around and her face was bright red for some reason Harry couldn't understand. He knew that she was frantic, he had gathered as much from being around Hermione and Lacie so much.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, trying not to shiver. As long as she calmed down, Harry could have a chance to slip away and get somewhere warm.

"I'm always here…you know, to get away from my thoughts…"

"R-r-r-right," Harry's teeth chattered and he couldn't control his body shaking.

"Do you come here a lot? I mean, I come here because he - …" she froze and the blood drained out of her face. She then looked at the floor in a way where her hair covered her face and she turned to walk away.

"Ginny?" Harry asked, trying to not let his voice shake.

"I'm fine!" her brisk walk went into a run towards the castle. Harry hugged himself in confusion and watched as she slowly became a speck before realising that he was freezing and sprinted his way back to the castle.

x-x-x-x-x

"She was probably shy," Hermione consoled as Harry sat on the chair closest to the fireplace, with three bathrobes wrapped around him. He stared at the fireplace whilst making the occasional shiver.

"Yeah, she does act a lot funnier around you," Ron said whilst snacking on a packet of popcorn. Hermione glared at him. "What?"

"Do you ever _not _eat?"

"For a moment I thought you had forgotten how to nag, but clearly not - …"

"I'm not nagging! You just ate dinner, and two helpings, no less!"

"Guys!"

"Sorry," Hermione and Ron said simultaneously.

"I'm gonna go for a walk," Harry said shortly, removing all the bathrobes.

"Harry - …"

"It'll be fine," Harry said, "I just need to gather my thoughts, without you two."

"Harry!"

Harry didn't listen and walked out of the Common Room. Hermione looked at Ron with a confused expression on her face. Ron just took enough of a break from eating popcorn to say, "It's because you nag so much."

They were still bickering bitterly when someone ran into the Common Room yelling, "ATTACK!"

"What do you mean, attack?" A seventh-year asked, who was sitting close to the student who had run in. Hermione looked over at the person, who was panting from running up to the Common Room

"He's done it again! The Heir has attacked!"

People looked at each other and flooded out of the Common Room. Hermione and Ron looked at each other with a grim expression and as they walked past the student, he looked at Hermione.

"I would be careful about being friends with Harry Potter, you could be next you know."

"Harry has as much chance of being the Heir of Slytherin as your father being Minister for Magic," Ron snapped.

"He could have been! He was very close to winning!"

Ron snickered, "Exactly."

"Let's go, Ron," Hermione said pulling on Ron's robe. They both sped out of the Common Room where people were headed, most of them, just following others to the scene of the alleged crime. People of all houses were spilling out of corridors to see the Heir in action.

By the time that Hermione and Ron had gotten there, a path had been cleared for Harry to be led out with Professor McGonagall behind him. He was staring at the ground until Hermione shouted, "Harry!"

He looked up, his green eyes filled with emotion behind his circular glasses, "It wasn't me! You have to believe me!"

"Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall cautioned.

"Trust me, please, just trust I didn't do it."

"I do, Harry," Hermione whispered. He was led away by a stern-looking McGonagall and Hermione didn't know what to do.

"I hate this," Ron said, assessing the scene. "It's like everyone has made their judgement on Harry since the Duelling Club and this has made it worse."

"He was with us just five minutes ago!" Hermione said aloud, "He didn't have enough time, logically, to get down here and attack someone, people are just being stupid."

"Who was attacked anyway?" Ron asked the people closest to him, and they said names Hermione couldn't hear. By the time they had said who it had been, Ron had turned a funny shade of grey.

"So, who was it?"

Ron gulped, "Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"Wasn't that - …?"

"The boy who Harry swore he never set the snake on? Yes."

Hermione and Ron started to walk away from the crowd, making sure no one was listening to them as they spoke in hushed tones.

"This is bad," Hermione whispered.

"Mmm.."

"I think, I'm going to check on the Potion."

"Already?"

"Look, if it isn't Malfoy, it's better to get a head start, I mean, this time last year we were close to finding Flamel!"

"Well, maybe the Heir is going home for Christmas," Ron said, "Nothing we can do until term starts again."

"We have a week, we should try our best at least before the Heir goes off for three weeks to eat turkey and celebrate Christmas at home whilst Colin, Justin and Mrs Norris lie like ice statues in the Hospital Wing."

Ron stopped and looked at her with a strange expression on his face.

"Hermione, did you really have to go and make Christmas sound so morbid?"

x-x-x-x-x

"Why is this happening, now of all times?" Minerva sighed as she collapsed into a chair in front of Albus' desk. He peered at her for a moment, his blue eyes looked dull and tired behind his half-moon glasses. The enigma of Albus Dumbledore was merely a shadow in the exhaustion of the previous night's events. Minerva sighed again. "Was it Potter?"

"No, I do not believe so," Albus said. "The boy was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"The boy has a way of attracting trouble even when he is strolling to class, let alone in the middle of the evening without his two sidekicks," Severus said as he paced the circular office. He stopped for a moment and looked at Minerva. "And for the record, it isn't Malfoy either."

Minerva nearly fell out of her chair. "How did you - …? Did you read my - …?"

"I wouldn't have to be a good Legilimens to see what was written all over your face."

"Well, how do you know it isn't Mr Malfoy? His family have the track record," Minerva said.

"Slytherin would have rather eaten his damned Chamber piece by piece than let Gryffindor snaffle one of his heirs, Minerva and you know it. A true heir would be a Slytherin. Consider this, no Slytherins have been attacked yet, whereas we have two known Gryffindor victims and a Hufflepuff one."

Minerva went to open her mouth, but she couldn't see a flaw in Severus' sound logic. He was right. The Heir was most likely a Slytherin, but not the Malfoys considering that one of the Malfoys had been in her House. She looked at Albus who looked worn out. She stood up and peered through one of the fragile instruments that sat upon his desk and then pressed her lips together.

"Morale is at an all time low, here at Hogwarts, Minerva," Albus said solemnly.

"Of course it is, there haven't been as many attacks on the students since, well, since You-Know-Who was around," Minerva said.

"There have been attacks - …"

"Attacks of this calibre, Severus!" Minerva exclaimed, "Petrifications of this level haven't happened since, perhaps, fifty years ago!"

"Exactly fifty years, Minerva," Albus said. "Back when the Chamber was last opened."

"So its true, _he's _back?"

"No, according to reliable sources, he is hiding out in the forests of Albania, biding his time."

"So he will be back?"

"Not for a very long time," Albus said slowly, removing his glasses and placing them on his desk and giving his eyelids a rub. "But we cannot predict when the storm will hit."

"Well this doesn't explain who it is now," Minerva said, walking to her seat and sitting in it again. She pointed at the instrument. "Look at it, Severus."

Severus moved from his spot briskly, peeked at the instrument fleetingly before returning to his original position.

"Familiar scene."

"Students huddled around, protecting one another, scurrying to classes. The worst being Mr Potter not being able to approach a Muggle-born without being victimised by other students," Minerva said sadly. "It seems like the only one they do not protect is Miss Granger."

"They know Potter would rather snap his broom in half than Petrify Miss Granger."

"True," Albus said, opening his eyes. He stared at his desk for a moment before replacing his glasses. "Although we cannot change student opinion, we can boost morale."

"The children are due to leave next week, what can we do?"

"Enlist Gilderoy's help," Albus said wearily, "Have him arrange it after the holidays."

Minerva smirked, "Albus, by letting Gilderoy conduct something like that is rather… risky don't you think? The man is rather eccentric."

"You'll have gargoyles dressed in velvet strolling around Hogwarts, if you let him unleash upon the students," Severus said with an expression that looked like he had eaten a whole clove of garlic.

"It would keep him out of your hair as you try to sort different arrangements out."

"And you, Albus?"

Albus reclined in his seat, his fingers interlocking with each other as he did so, and he smiled half-heartedly.

"Oh, I do not believe I will be around much longer, there is unrest within the Board of Governors."

"Why?" Minerva asked.

"They think I have done too little to prevent these attacks - …"

"Absurd! We don't know the perpetrator!" Minerva shot to her feet, and even Severus walked to her side.

"Nevertheless, I am expecting a visit from one of the members in the coming months, with an Order of Suspension. I am merely warning you."

"Ridiculous, they get rid of you, then the whole school will be attacked," Minerva growled.

"You have too much faith in me, Minerva. You are Deputy Headmistress, ergo, you will do a fine job if I were not to be around."

Minerva opened her mouth, only to close it a few seconds later, she looked away, her hand rested on the chair that she had been sitting on. "If you say so, Albus."

"And Minerva?"

Minerva looked up, at her mentor's tired expression which seemed to give off a sense of comfort, and smiled as she asked, "Yes, Albus?"

"Make sure you have a Merry Christmas."


	8. Pass on, weak heart

**Disclaimer to JK Rowling  
**

**A/N:** Sorry for a late update (really late actually), I've had some quite bad writers block and most of my time goes towards my degree, but its sort of back now, so I'll definitely finish off this fic (and maybe sequels etc) but it'll take its time :)

* * *

** Chapter Seven: Pass on, weak heart**

* * *

"_**Come not, when I am dead,  
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,  
To trample round my fallen head,  
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save."**_

Alfred Lord Tennyson from _Come Not When I Am Dead_

* * *

Hermione was nervous in executing her plan. She had said it several times before, Harry and Ron was to give Crabbe and Goyle her cupcakes and Hermione was to distract Pansy. Hermione wished for moment that she were the one to incapacitate Crabbe and Goyle considering they had the combined intelligence of a troll. Pansy, on the other hand, could scratch and kick and punch. She considered for a moment the calibre of Harry and Ron combined and the necessity that they got the job done.

It was better she was distracting Pansy, otherwise the boys would have never got the job done.

The good thing about tailing Pansy was that she didn't seem to be around Draco all the time, and when she wasn't around Draco there were only few occasions when she was with someone else.

_Probably because no one likes you, _Hermione thought snidely before chastising herself. She had been the victim of bullying and she wasn't going to rise to someone else's level.

Another thing that didn't bother her about Pansy was that she wasn't very vigilant. She rarely would check behind herself, and seemed to dance merrily as she went, without a care in the world. Then again, had Lauren not been in Hermione's life she wouldn't have felt the need to check behind herself when she was alone. Hermione had the feeling that Pansy Parkinson had definitely lived a sheltered life.

She had been following Pansy for several minutes before she felt like giving up. Pansy seemed to like to wander in and out of corridors but after a rather crazy detouring session, Hermione realised that she was heading towards the first-floor toilets. There was no other place that Hermione knew better that the girl's bathroom on the first floor.

After all, she had been trapped in there once with a troll. It still made her shiver.

Her hand brushed against the cleaning bottle that Fred and George had stolen from Filch's supplies. When Hermione had asked, they looked as if someone had given them twenty Galleons, whereas in reality, Hermione had given them two each for the job out of guilt because they could have gotten caught. If it had something involving Filch, the twins were the people to look for. Annoying Filch was their speciality and somehow, a good Christmas present to them.

Pansy's pace was quickening as she reached the door to the bathroom. It was fortunate really that Filch was a Squib and couldn't use magic to clean the Castle. Fred and George said it was child's play simply taking an empty plastic squirty bottle (was there even another term for what Hermione was carrying in her robes?) and because it was Fred and George, well, as long as you didn't ask how they knew what to do, well, they didn't ask too many questions.

The plan was simple. Ambush Pansy, spray her in the face with Sleeping Draught, put her in an inconspicuous place and take some of her hair. There was nothing that could go wrong.

Except, the fact that everything could go wrong. The spray could malfunction. The dosage could be too little. The small things.

For insurance that Pansy wouldn't know it was her, Hermione pulled a pillowcase over her face. She had already cut holes for eyes and reached for the closing bathroom door. She slowed the door closing considerably and waited to hear the lock of the cubicle before pushing the door as slowly as possible, and opening only enough to let her body through. She tiptoed in the bathroom, giving Pansy no indication that there was someone else in there.

Hermione located the only possible cubicle that Pansy could be in right now and stood by its door.

It was easy.

As soon as Pansy opened the door, Hermione would spray a face full of the Sleeping Draught at her. Hopefully the effect was instantaneous, or Hermione would have to run away, or keep spraying. She hadn't really thought that far yet.

Hermione heard the toilet roll, roll in its holder, its perforated edges ripped. She pulled the bottle out of her robes, her index finger poised on the on the trigger.

There was a flushing noise.

Hermione used the loud noise to mask a deep breath.

The sound of the lock being opened. The swing of the door. The shadow of a foot. Everything seemed to happen slower, clearer, and in a way Hermione was processing quick enough for her finger to press down and let out a mist just in front of Pansy's face. She coughed, inhaled some and then turned to Hermione.

Her stomach dropped. Then she realised that Pansy couldn't see her face.

"What on earth…"

Hermione sprayed again, making sure Pansy got a face full. Pansy spluttered as Hermione kept spraying.

"What is wrong -…" a retch as Pansy got a mouth full.

_Come on, come on, come on!_

Maybe the potion was degrading as she was dispensing it, maybe…

Hermione just caught Pansy as she fell. _Yes! It had worked! _

Hermione really wanted to a victory dance at that point, but she realised that there were people to meet and Heirs to catch. She pulled out several of Pansy's hairs for safe measure and put them in a little envelope, before pocketing it.

She placed Pansy in a cubicle with great difficulty, seating her on a closed toilet and taking the utmost care that there was no chance that she was going to fall and hit her head on the floor.

Hermione closed the cubicle door behind her and left it in such a way that someone would think that there was someone occupied in there if there was a chance someone came in, although, since it was Christmas that idea was highly unlikely. She pulled off the pillowcase and along with the squirty bottle, and put them in her robes before leaving the bathroom.

Of course, Hermione felt awful that she had left Pansy in such a state, but she had no time to worry. Like the Polyjuice Potion, her Sleeping Draught, although powerful, had a shelf life and she needed to hurry before the real Pansy walked in the Slytherin Common Room just as she was impersonating her.

She walked briskly to the Grand Staircase, and took two steps at a time to reach the second floor.

"Granger."

Hermione looked up at a figure that was slowly coming down from the Third Floor, his hand just grazing the bannister for support, and his face was screwing up in relief that the Staircase was behaving itself.

"What, Malfoy?"

"I was looking for you."

"You didn't look very hard," Hermione retorted.

"Normally you're not a hard person to find, normally you're slaving over the books in the library."

"Ha, ha. It's Christmas, I think the books deserve a rest."

"From you, anyone deserves a day off. When will Potter and Weasley ask for one?"

Hermione felt herself redden, "Malfoy, it's Christmas, can't you stop being… a-a-a prat for one day?"

"Did Weasley taught you to insult people? No wonder I felt praised," Malfoy said with a smirk.

"You're abhorrent!"

"You've broken my heart."

"Oh, as _if _you had one in the first place, Malfoy! What do you even want, aside from skipping around to merry people and happily ruining their Christmases?"

Malfoy looked taken aback for a moment and then his face darkened. "Here." Malfoy's hands dived in his pockets and produced a small, ornate object. He extended his arm.

"What is it?"

"Just take it."

"No, I won't!"

"Take it now or I'll hex you."

"Wow, Malfoy. Who died and made you the King of Persuasion?"

"It's from Lacie."

Hermione took a step back. "What?"

Hermione reached for it and took it. It was a small mirror. She examined it, and turned it over to see the back. The silvery vines that sprawled across the edges of the mirror and its handle, came together on the back. Hermione couldn't quite see, but she could feel, a raised bump. It wasn't surprising when she realised that the raised area was in fact the letter, M.

"It's a family heirloom," Malfoy said softly, "Whenever there is a Dark Creature around, it burns and vibrates in your pocket."

"W-Why?"

"Look," Malfoy walked around her, placing his hand over hers as she held the mirror. He was at her shoulder and pointed the mirror and Hermione could see the Portrait behind her. Hermione shifted the mirror slightly and saw Draco's face, and his eyes were bright with excitement for a moment before he caught his reflection and his face reddened. He dropped his hand. He cleared his throat and spoke, his voice sounding several tones deeper than it normally was.

"Granger."

Hermione was too confused to conjure a sentence. Normally Hermione had _something _at the end of her tongue, but instead there was nothing, well, except for,

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Malfoy said shortly before running down the stairs. He paused, faltered before turning around with a look crossed between disgust and delight and said, "Merry Christmas to you, Granger."

Hermione didn't have the chance to say it back, as Malfoy sprinted down the cooperative stairs and disappeared out of sight.

"…and a Merry Christmas to you, too, Malfoy," she whispered to herself with a smile, adding the mirror to the many other objects in her pocket.

**x-x-x-x-x**

"So I think if we just linger here, for a bit, maybe someone will tell us where to go…" Ron said as he played with his tie uncomfortably. Harry looked just as uncomfortable as Ron. Hermione wasn't surprised, they were big and tall and troll-like, and in real life, they had the combined IQ of 100. The size of Crabbe's neck was probably the size of Ron's thigh.

"Goyle doesn't wear glasses!" Hermione hissed at Harry. Harry looked at her for a moment, and then a moment of clarity crossed Goyle's face. Hermione bit back a smile, knowing that that she'd never see that expression on that face again.

"Crabbe! Goyle! Parkinson!" a horribly familiar voice called at them just as Harry finished putting his glasses in his pocket, from down the dungeon. Hermione froze, but Ron looked ready to pounce. "Why are you stood out here? There's a curfew."

"But it's Christmas, Per-I mean, Weasley," Harry said just as Ron said, "What are you doing here?"

Percy looked confused at the jumble of words being thrown at him, but decided to answer Ron with a tight voice, "I'm a Prefect, Crabbe."

"…And haven't we heard it enough, Weasley?" Malfoy had taken this time to appear and for one moment, Hermione was grateful to see him.

"Malfoy," Percy said coolly, "I'd watch your tone."

"I'd watch yours," Malfoy said airily, "Considering your father lost the inquiry, I'd say one more mistake on his part and his job is on the line."

Hermione could see that Percy was shaking with anger as he hissed, "I can put you in detention."

"You can, but you won't… unless you want to lose your badge," Malfoy said rather smugly, "Don't forget, Weasley, my Father is a _Governor_."

The colour drained out of Percy's face. Ron looked like he was about to throw at punch straight into Malfoy's face. He probably felt guilty at the jibe he had made at Percy before, considering he was getting humiliated now.

"Yes, well-…" Percy took a deep breath, his chest puffed out as he said shakily with a cold tone, "I'd watch your back."

He turned on his heels and stomped away, his robes swishing side to side and the sound of a slamming door was heard not long after. Malfoy chuckled and then saw that he was accompanied.

"Crabbe, look lively! It's Christmas!" Malfoy said, elbowing Ron. Ron just glared at him. Malfoy rolled his eyes, "…or don't."

He walked past Hermione into the tunnels, he took three steps and turned around, "Well, are you _coming_?"

Hermione strolled up to Malfoy and took his arm, "Lead the way."

She fluttered her eyelashes in a way that physically hurt her eyes. It was one of the things she couldn't understand about stereotypical girly-girls like Pansy who pretended to be a damsel in distress constantly to make Malfoy feel some sort of protectiveness over her.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows at Harry and Ron and started walking, twisting and turning in directions that made Hermione feel ill, like the time in which she was in Malfoy's maze. Though this time it was much worse, as it lasted longer, and her body felt light, each footstep felt like she was closer to throwing up violently. Her head was pounding as if she was being forced through an invisible fog, but to keep up her disguise she tried not to wobble, even though she really needed to. One look behind her she saw Harry and Ron look pale. Malfoy, on the other hand looked unperturbed.

_It must be a Slytherin thing_, Hermione thought to herself. She didn't even know the reasoning behind his decision from taking certain tunnels. To him, it was instinctive what to do. He stopped abruptly at a wall and said with a smug tone, "Pureblood".

The bricks on the wall slide downwards revealing the Slytherin Common Room. Malfoy stepped in first and Hermione followed, she stared around the place. Even though the candles and the fireplace were emitting a golden glow she would have seen in the Gryffindor Common Room, but the room was bathed in an unusually comfortable green light. Malfoy went to the Christmas tree and was looking under it for gifts. Rather unlike the Gryffindor Christmas, which was a hotchpotch of different ornaments and tinsel, the Slytherin one screamed elegance, with a single strip of silver tinsel and silver ornaments dangling down in military precision and twinkled like stars.

"Aren't you going to sit?" Malfoy asked, chancing upon a small package and rattled it. Harry and Ron reacted in a way that Crabbe and Goyle would have, and sat immediately. Hermione took her time to walk to the seats and perched on the edge of the emerald leather sofa opposite Harry and Ron. It wasn't hard to perch on it, considering that it was far from the comfy Gryffindor armchairs. Hermione looked expectantly at Malfoy and cleared her throat.

"Does this belong to any of you?" Malfoy asked nonchalantly. The three shook their heads mutely. Malfoy looked around him and ripped the small box open and saw that it had some sort of amulet. He closed it up, and put it back underneath the tree. As he returned, he brought over a copy of the _Evening Prophet_ and threw it in the direction of Harry and Ron. He sat down with a grin, and then went on to put his head on Hermione's lap. She almost jumped but she managed to stay still as he reclined on the sofa.

"Weasley fined, I could skip merrily down the corridors for a week," Malfoy said, "Serves them all right, thinking that because they have a connection with Saint Potter they have a right to strut about, stupid blood traitors."

Hermione could see out of the corner of her eye that Ron had clenched his fist very tightly around the article. Most of Hermione's attention was on watching Malfoy for a reaction so that she could see it before it happened. For some reason, her hands went to his hair by some sort of reflex.

**x-x-x-x-x**

There was something about the way that Pansy stroked his hair that soothed Draco. She had done it before, her nails digging into his scalp at occasions but normally he resisted from jumping up at her and giving a scathing look. The last thing he needed was the Parkinsons against the Malfoys, not when Father desperately wanted a marriage union between the pair. But this was a different thing entirely, as there was an attentiveness to it, a delicacy that Draco was sure that only Lacie was capable of.

_Oh Lacie, where are you? Why have you not written to me, even though you can?_ Draco thought wistfully. His thoughts of his twin were distracted as Pansy's soft fingers briefly played with his ear. He was surprised that he didn't shy away from her touch. _Well, that was a new sensation_.

There was a guffaw from Goyle as he read the article and he said rather emotionlessly, "Yeah, Saint Potter, but everyone's scared of him."

"I don't see why," Draco said with a sulky tone. He didn't know why it was there but he resented that it was there, "There is no way that he is the Heir, he's far too saint-like. He and his dancing band of merry misfits."

"But he speaks Parseltongue," Pansy said, "Surely - …"

"Yes, that is rather strange, I wrote to Father… even he was surprised," Draco said slowly. He snickered, "I was more expecting people to think _I _was the Heir, considering…"

There was a very long pause.

"Are you?"

"Crabbe, even if I was, I wouldn't go around blabbering it around for _anyone _to hear," Draco said rolling his eyes. "And I've told you, I'm not the Heir."

"I heard that the Chamber was opened fifty years ago," Pansy said. As soon as she said it, a tight smile formed on her face.

"Who told you that?" Draco demanded to know, as far as he was aware, only Theo knew that the Chamber had been opened before. "Was it Theo?"

Draco wouldn't put it past Theo to have proverbially spilt the beans to Pansy. The crush that he held for her was so shamefully obvious, that it was a wonder how Pansy didn't actually see it. The time that Pansy could have spent worrying over him like he was fragile doll, she could have spent noticing Theo's infatuation.

_Each to their own, _Draco though to himself as Pansy answered him, "_Everyone _knows that the Chamber was opened before. Why do you think that Dumbledore looks so worried when he's telling us everything is fine?"

Draco opened his mouth. He closed it. He hadn't expected _Pansy _to notice something like that. He had underestimated her.

"Well… I'm not the Heir, and I don't know anything about the Heir fifty years ago."

"Wouldn't your Father know a little bit about the Heir?" Goyle asked with a desperate tone. Draco was confused considering that he told them time and time again that his Father didn't know anything about the Heir. He was even more confused when he looked up to see Pansy glare across the room at him considering there was no reason to. She might have mistaken his desperation as attention seeking.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked, sitting up. Pansy jumped a little and her hands fell limply to her lap. Her gaze darted from side to side.

"Obviously…" she faltered, "You don't want to talk about the Heir. I mean that, you must get it all the time, everyone asking you because your dad is a Governor."

There was something satisfying about her tone when she said it, like he was the bearer of all knowledge. The best thing was that he had the inside scoop when it came to what happened the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened. There was something incredibly gratifying about being a know-it-all, and for once, he understood why Granger liked being such a swot.

"Well, there is something I haven't told anyone," Draco said quietly and he leant in closer to Crabbe and Goyle. "Father told me this morning."

"What is it?" Goyle asked, Crabbe looked interested in this snippet of information too.

"Father said that the last time the Chamber was opened a Mudblood _died_," Draco whispered across the room to them, not caring if Pansy heard at all. Strangely nice sensations or not, Draco still didn't like her one bit. "I hope that this time, it'll be _Granger_."

There was a loud gasp beside him and he turned to look at Pansy whose eyes had gone suddenly wet.

"What's wrong now? I thought you hated Granger!"

"There's hating someone and there's wishing them dead!" Pansy shrieked and her hair was starting to crackle a bit. Draco was really confused now at her anger.

Draco didn't like to feel guilty, but at the same time he did. He had essentially wished his sister's best friend dead. He hadn't thought of it like that when he had said it, but he was being himself. He hated Granger. Hated her. He hated everything about her, her arrogance, her existence, and the way he stole his sister from him and was the reason why she wouldn't write to him. Then again, he expected some sort of snigger from Crabbe and Goyle. There was none.

_Of course, you can't entirely hate someone you just tried to save_, a snide voice said. Draco took a deep breath. He had received the mirror that Mother had sent to him for Christmas and a note to tell him of the mirror's powers. She hadn't sent some kind of explanation to go along with it, just the simple note. Then moments later, his Father sent him a note telling him of the Mudblood who died. Draco then just… knew that he had to give it to Granger. He didn't know why he _had _to, but he just had to. It was like a compulsion that fuelled him through the day. Then he'd given it to her and lied, saying it was from Lacie. He protected her.

It didn't mean he couldn't make a blasé comment about her dying. It was a _joke_. He was being how he had always been: mean, and guilt-free. Usually Pansy revered him for that.

He turned to face Pansy and opened his mouth but then closed it stubbornly. He was not going to justify his actions. He never had to. It was Pansy's own fault for taking it too seriously. He looked over at Crabbe and Goyle and rolled his eyes, "Girls, I'll never understand them."

Pansy shot up and gave him a scathing look. She moved over to the other side of the Common Room and dithered. Draco hoped she was out of earshot considering that she was getting incredibly offended at everything that he said. He didn't understand why she wouldn't go back to her dormitory. Draco supposed that it was probably because she was the only girl to have stayed behind. This was another thing that he didn't understand as the Parkinsons had always thrown the most extravagant Christmas parties, ones that he was sure that his mother and father would have attended. Pansy was the sort to want to be present during that time. Then again, Draco would have gone home, but it would have been awful considering his sister wasn't there.

Although Lacie probably despised him, he stilled enjoyed her company.

"Anyway, I suppose Dumbledore won't be around much longer," Draco said. "Father's organising a motion to have him suspended… lack of effort on his part."

"You can't just take Dumbledore, you'll just be giving the Heir… free-free…" Goyle said, and looked over in a direction behind him and gulped, "Mudbloods."

Had Goyle not said the word, Mudblood, Draco would have highly suspected that a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was possessing Goyle. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Of course, they're not going to depose Dumbledore _now_," Draco said simply, "Only when there's more victims."

"And what good will that do?" Pansy returned now, her hair seemed to have curled a bit at the ends, "Watch as people just drop like flies in front of us and take away the only person that could probably do something about it?"

"Not that it's any of _your _business, Pansy," Draco said with a glare, Pansy was acting very strangely, "Father has… I-I'm sorry, but is your hair crackling?"

Pansy looked at him for a moment, and then her hand shot to her hand and a look of horror appeared on her face. She looked absolutely terrified, her gaze transfixed somewhere across the room and then she went, "Crabbe! Goyle!"

Her voice had changed by several pitches and she rushed across the Common Room, and Draco noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were by the Entrance to the Common Room. Draco stood up.

"Where are you lot going?" he demanded to know. It was odd that the three of them were suddenly leaving at the same time. Pansy was the last of them to leave, and something cluttered to the floor. She froze for a moment. Draco walked closer towards her, expecting some sort of an answer for their abrupt departure simultaneously. She bent and grabbed the silver thing, and shouted, "Hospital Wing! We'll be back soon!"

Draco stopped in his tracks and was very, very, very puzzled. There was also something strange about when Pansy left, something was telling him that there was more to the thing she had dropped.

A wave of tiredness hit him as a clock struck eleven. Draco pinched his nose.

_I'll leave them to it._

**x-x-x-x-x**

"That was a fun exercise in learning absolutely nothing," Ron complained, trying to move as fast as possible but his oversized uniform was stopping him. Hermione sighed.

"We learnt that not only has the Chamber been opened before, someone died," Hermione said, she tried to control her voice as she said the next part, "And Malfoy would very much like that to be me."

"Don't listen to him, he was being conceited as usual," Harry said. "He's just… a tosser."

Hermione smiled a little in spite of herself. "Well, at least we know that even though Malfoy isn't the Heir, the whole thing reeks of Mr Malfoy."

"How?"

"Didn't you hear Malfoy? 'Of course, they're not going to depose Dumbledore now,'" Hermione recalled, "It seems like an elaborate plan to discredit Dumbledore."

"Yeah, Hermione, one evil wizard at a time, all right?" Ron said with a small chuckle, and then he added, "These tunnels make me sick."

"Yeah, well, we're nearly out now," Hermione said.

"Oh, and how can you tell?" Harry asked. "We have no way of knowing how to navigate out, I can't even remember how Malfoy got in."

"Just trust me," Hermione said. There was something about these tunnels, like the maze in the garden of the Malfoy's garden, that made sense to navigate back. Each step she made in the right direction felt less heavy, the pressing against her temples felt less intense.

And then they were in the Dungeon corridor. It felt like a breath of fresh air.


	9. Interlude II

**Disclaimer to JK Rowling.**

* * *

**Interlude II**

* * *

**_"Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd:  
I strove against the stream and all in vain"  
_**

_Alfred Lord Tennyson from 'The Princess'_

* * *

Dear N,

The Portkey has been planted. It is an instrument of Apollo. It will be activated at midnight of the Winter Solstice and the recipient will arrive a mile North of the property.

My contact has been notified.

Yours,

Zjart.

PS. Please take good care. Enclosed is a list of items required for this calendar year.

x-x-x-x-x

Z.

She is home. I cannot express my gratefulness.

Merry Christmas,

N.

x-x-x-x-x

Dear Narcissa,

If you think for one moment that I will be joining you for Christmas, you would have another thought coming. Did you really think that after the fiasco that was Christmas dinner last year, I would feel comfortable in that environment again? As much as I value my long-term relationship with Lucius, I did not like the tone he took to Lacerta. No matter how upset he is, I am assured, he was taught better manners.

Then again, who am I to lecture Lucius Malfoy on etiquette?

As for Draco, your precious son is safe and has been. No one has considered he was the Heir for one second… well, some of the Gryffindors did… and maybe some teachers, but everyone is caught up in the idea that Potter is the Heir. Can you believe it? A second Parselmouth appearing in the short space of fifty years? Of course, I wouldn't have believed it myself, but I was there. He was really speaking to that snake, just like the Dark Lord… I, er… I digress. Your son works hard when he needs to work hard, and provides excellent marks. That is all I have to say in regards to his schoolwork. And no, I don't believe he has Theodore Nott doing his work for him, in terms of schoolwork. Believe it or not, Draco is quite intelligent but is often overshadowed by Miss Granger.

As customary, I apologise for declining your invitation. I also apologise for any snide comments you found offensive. Lucius is not the main factor of my absence, but rather, Dumbledore wishes staff to remain behind during the holidays due to the incidents. Although many students have returned home for the holidays there are a handful that could be at risk.

I hope you a good Christmas,

Severus.

PS. There was a rumour about a certain… _girl _returning to Hogwarts. Is this true? Are you mad to defy…? I suppose you thought of every outcome, and I-… you're a very good friend, Narcissa, but this time… I suppose it is your head, and you may do what you wish .

PPS. Again, Merry Christmas.

x-x-x-x-x

Dear Severus,

I refer first to your first postscript, I am not mad. I know you may disagree considering the madness of my family lineage, but I assure you, I know what I am doing. I am not defying my husband. He loves his daughter and he loves me. I could make him… never mind, that's for another letter. I admire your rushing sentiments, and your hasty splotch of ink near it. Were you going to scribble over it? Oh, Severus! We have been friends for decades, you can call me a friend if you wish. Alas, I guess this is the best I shall get it. However, could you not be more… kind in future? After all, I did - … never mind again, that too is for another letter.

As your 'good friend' I will not rush to admonish you on your impertinence upon Lucius' manners. Lucius has a traceable lineage to the dawn of the wizards, and maybe some Gods. We shall not rush to judgement on his etiquette, we accept them because of his blood status. I hate that, I really do, but it is necessary for me to remind you where your place is in our social circle, Severus. Don't make me remind you again as it leaves a sour taste in my tongue for a week.

As for your refusal to attend a beautiful Malfoy Christmas, I guess it would be a lonely three-person dinner, what with Draco deciding to stay behind for the winter months. He writes fervently to his father but only simple notes to me so many times that I see green. I do not like to snoop as to see he is saying to his father, but what I've heard from Lucius' colleagues from the school board, it looks very grim and he believes his father to know all the answers. It is sad, considering now the spotlight will be on Lacie at Christmas dinner too.

Yes, she is back. For good. I will make sure of that.

I am glad that Draco is flourishing in his studies. It is always nice for a mother to hear such news. I'm not even unhappy that Hermione – and I would prefer that you call her that too in context, Severus, she is a family friend – is challenging him. It only makes him a better academic in the end, considering how he always wishes to better her.

I hope that the situation in Hogwarts evens out. From the whispers I've been hearing during High Tea, the last time something similar happened a girl… a _Muggle-born _died, is this true? Oh Merlin and above, I dear hope that this abhorrent being dare not bring harm to Hermione. Please, if it is not more of a bother – please see to it that she remains safe and sound. It would bring me peace of mind to know that when Lacie returns to Hogwarts, her best friend is still well.

Your good friend,

Narcissa.

PS. If I may be so bold to say, you too, Severus, for all intents and purposes, are too a good friend.

x-x-x-x-x

Dear Draco,

I'm home.

Lacie.

x-x-x-x-x

Lacie,

So I guess you want to know what happened in the 'Draco Malfoy Heir Knowledge Coup' of tonight. Well, I can definitively say that a lot of things were discovered. Namely that your brother despises me so much that he would like me dead. I very nearly revealed who I was because of how calm he was when he said it, I mean, I didn't mean to be that level of upset about it. I thought after Lauren that I had developed some form of thick skin, but I suppose hearing that someone wants you dead tears, even the thickest skin, back a few layers, I suppose. I don't even know, the strangest thing that I can't fathom is that he gave me a present (saying it was from you, but I know you haven't sent a letter to him since… well, I don't think you have really sent him a letter), for Christmas. Surely… ah! It's Malfoy and I guess I'll never be able to begin to understand your brother. I bet even if you did come back that you'd not be able to understand him, and he's your twin!

I do wonder what Christmas is like at Beauxbatons and I suppose if I could ask you in real life, and if you could send me letters, I'd know. I suppose it's every elegant, with ice sculptures handing out drinks, and tinsel and snow. In any case, you didn't miss much. Not many people stayed this Christmas and I don't know if that is a regular thing or because everyone is too frightened to be at Hogwarts and wouldn't want to be here longer if they didn't have to be. I'm not scared though. Even if whatever it is attacking Muggleborns, attacks me and kicks me, well… I won't go down without a fight. I wouldn't with Lauren, and I suppose any Dark Creature who Petrifies can't be too much worse.

Your best friend,

Hermione.

x-x-x-x-x

Dear Lacie,

I'm glad that you're home. I'm surprised you didn't have something to pass on to Granger. I'm also surprised that you didn't write to Granger as well. I can tell that. I bet Father is watching your every move. I wonder what favours Mother had to pull in order to get you back, or whether you should be back at all. I don't suppose that you know, but Mudbloods are getting attacked.

Don't worry though as your precious Granger is safe from the Heir of Slytherin. For now. I'm surprised that Mother (because Father wouldn't want you back) would put you into this pit of snakes, when other parents are thinking of ways to pull their children out of the school. In any case, I shan't comment on Mother's sanity. I know how tetchy she can get.

Looking forward to seeing you,

Draco.

x-x-x-x-x

Lacie,

Sorry I haven't been writing much, I've been in the library. See, what I don't understand is how Harry heard voices in the wall on the night of the Deathday Party. That voice said it wanted to _kill_, but instead it left Mrs Norris Petrified. Harry was positive that it said it was hungry, and that it had been for so long.

The problem is that Ron and I couldn't hear the voice. I even tried pressing an ear against the wall several times after that night. There's nothing but the faint knocking and whine. I remember what you said about the voices in the wall, but Harry wasn't even pressing his ear against the wall until after he heard it the first time. He says that before that, he had heard the same voice during detention with Lockhart. I guess if I crack that riddle, a million other riddles will appear, but it's the only thing that I can solve, seeing as Malfoy doesn't know anymore.

Your best friend,

Hermione.

x-x-x-x-x

Dear Draco,

I'm going to pretend that you never sent that last letter. Yes, I will agree that Father was less than pleased to see me, and yes, Mother and Father are in one large, loud argument right now, so for once in the past year or so, could you be more of a brother rather than a scorned woman?

Your _sister_,

Lacie.

x-x-x-x-x

Dad lost the inquiry, I knew that it would happen and it wasn't even his fault. It was Ron's fault, not really Harry's because he wasn't driving the car. Ron knew what would happen, and it wasn't like he was Fred and George. Ron was probably showing off for Harry.

_He was probably just trying to get to Hogwarts under the circumstances._

No! You don't know Ron! Ever since he was little, he was showing off to anyone who would look. Showing off to Harry is just the cherry on top of everything he had ever done.

_Sounds like you're jealous. _

I'm not!

_Anyway, I thought that Harry Potter was the type of person who everyone showed off to, even Draco Malfoy._

That's right, I understand it. I understand wanting to draw Harry's attention, the way that he would look at you with those green eyes…

x-x-x-x-x

Stop it!

_I'm not doing anything._

I keep… forgetting things, I remember talking to you and everything goes fuzzy. What are you doing, Tom? Tom? What…

x-x-x-x-x

I'm scared. Why can't I remember breakfast, or dinner? Why do I look so tired? There is blood under my fingernails still. Tom, what is happening to me?

_Nothing, my dear sweet Ginny. I wouldn't do anything to ever hurt you. You are my best friend, if I hurt you, who would I talk to? It's not like people are lining up to talk to me._

You're right Tom, I must just be drifting out. Percy says it may be the stress, and you do help with my schoolwork quite a bit. You're ever so clever Tom.

x-x-x-x-x

_Why aren't you talking to me?_

No reason.

_You're drifting away from me. It's because I'm just writing in a book isn't it?_

No, no. Tom. It's just I'm so tired. It's the strangest thing. I didn't write in you for a day…

_Is that how long it has been?_

Yes, a day. It's odd because for that day, I didn't feel as tired. Even Gina said that I looked healthier.

_Oh, so are you saying that I tire you? My friendship tires you?_

NO. Of course not, Tom! It's just, for one day since I came to Hogwarts I didn't feel as worn out.

_So you're saying you're better off without me?_

I am not saying that! Please, Tom! Oh, Tom, please don't ignore me. I promise, you're my best friend! Please, please, please don't ignore me. I was just writing about my feelings. I felt really lonely when I don't talk to you, and you know that. Oh, Tom, please don't do this. You know I _need _you.

_Good, because I need you too, Ginny. You and me, against everyone else, one day we'll be someone that even Harry Potter notices. _

Oh, Tom. You understand me so well. I'm glad you're talking to me again.

* * *

_Several letters, Hermione's letter's to Lacie are the type that are unsent, you know when you write diaries and stuff? Yep. I think the rest is pretty guessable. Short-ish filler chapter. I'm kinda working on the next chapter and such and such and I was going to update this one when I'd written the next chapter, but I did this for my sister, who can't read the copy on my computer, and therefore I have to publish for her to read :P_

_In any case, I hope you guys are enjoying this story. It's a hard 'un, because I love writing fluff scenes, but there is scant an opportunity in a fic containing 2nd years..._

_Love, Becky. _


	10. Race the Restless Blood

**Disclaimer to JK Rowling.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Race the Restless Blood  
**

* * *

_"The spear of ice has wept itself away, _  
_And hour by hour unfolding woodbine leaves _  
_ O'er his uncertain shadow droops the day. _  
_She comes! The loosen'd rivulets run; _  
_ The frost-bead melts upon her golden hair;"_

Alfred Lord Tennyson from "_The Progress of Spring"_

* * *

"Malfoy, just the person I'm looking for," a lazy drawl superseded the babble of the Common Room. Draco, who was lounging in an armchair in the corner of the Common Room, looked up and to his dismay, Zabini was swaggering towards him. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Zabini," Draco said curtly. "Has the holiday finished so soon?"

Blaise Zabini smirked, "Malfoy, you missed one of the greatest parties that was at the Baxendale mansion, Lizzie Baxendale has grown up beautifully."

Draco sighed, "The last time _you_ saw Lizzie Baxendale was when she was six, of course she was going to grow up looking different."

Zabini's expression grew cold and it took him a moment to regain composure and retort, "You're being like this only because you fancy Granger."

Draco could hear his sharp intake of breath like it was a scream, and Pansy, to his left, gasped. Draco heard a snicker to his right and Draco shot Goyle, the perpetrator of the snicker, a glacial glare. He turned back to look at Zabini and said through gritted teeth, "I do not."

"Really?" Zabini asked, "I see the way you look at her."

"I don't even look at her, she's nothing but a _Mudblood_," Draco snarled.

"You say that Malfoy - …"

Draco didn't even want to hear the end of that sentence as he seethed. He sat up straight, ready to take on Zabini like he was a meagre deer.

"Draco, don't - …"

"I couldn't give two Knuts about the annoying know-it-all," Draco said, with even more venom, ignoring Theo's warning, and he watched as Zabini's lips pulled into a smile.

"Prove it."

_Damn._

Draco's stomach dropped. Theo had been right in warning him as Draco had fallen into some sort of trap, a trap that Zabini had probably formulated on the spot and now, Draco had to worm his way out of it. _Zabini knew exactly what to say to make Draco pounce. _

"Why should I prove _anything_ to _you_?" Draco said whilst standing up.

"Fine," Zabini said smugly, "Mudblood-lover."

The insult rang through his entire body.

"Don't you even dare, Zabini," Draco could barely get the words through his gritted teeth.

"What? Scared that everyone will find out?"

The taunt made his ears redden and with a cursory glance he could see people were looking at them. "I hate Granger, Zabini, everyone knows I do."

That was an exaggeration, but he wasn't going to be called a Mudblood-lover in front of his friends. He did like Granger, quite frankly, but he was never going to admit _that_ in the Slytherin Common Room.

"So you wouldn't mind if we decided to play a practical joke on her?" Zabini said conspiratorially.

Draco's first reaction was to ask _what sort of practical joke_? However, he was very aware people were waiting on his answer with bated breath. Even fourth-years were watching him. Of course, being a proud Malfoy had its disadvantages. Draco knew that if he didn't say something, something would be said to his father. Father already to put up with the… _shame_ that came with Lacie being Sorted into Gryffindor.

"Right… what is it?" Draco asked with a resigned voice.

x-x-x-x-x

"Hermione!" Harry slid beside Hermione as she was fervently searching for information about the Muggle-born that had died fifty years ago, when the Chamber had last opened. So far, it was about four in the afternoon, and her efforts had been fruitless. There was nothing. Not even so much of a whisper from a spirited book about the Chamber of Secrets and the monster within or the girl who died. If Malfoy was right…

_Hermione Jean Granger, don't you even dare. Malfoy is about as right as two add two being five._

"What, Harry?" Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her tired eyes ventured towards the large windows. The sky had turned a dark grey during her extensive reading, and this did not alleviate her mood.

"You have to come now," Harry said, bundling things into her bag, her notepaper getting crumpled under books in his haste

"I don't need those books," Hermione said as she grabbed her bag and placed the books on the table. "What is going on?"

"Just come quick!" Harry pulled on her sleeve, becoming antsier as time wore on. Hermione didn't understand his sudden desire to whisk her away. "Come on, Hermione, stop being so slow!"

"All right! Let me get this book checked out by…" Hermione looked up to see Madam Pince stood between two bookcases, glaring at her. She, in turn, glared at Harry. "Sorry, Madam Pince."

"Sorry, Madam Pince," Harry said, widening his eyes and looking the picture of innocence.

"Mister Potter," Madam Pince said, turning her gaze towards Harry, "you are treading on some very thin ice."

"Yes, Madam Pince," he said with the ducked head of guilt. Hermione tried not to titter at his practised act, when it came to being told off by Madam Pince for making too much noise. It was much worse when Ron and Lacie were there. All three of them performed the same actions, and they were shameless about it. Well… now it was only the two of them.

"Madam Pince, I'd like to get this book checked out," Hermione held the book up for her to take. The librarian tore her gaze off Harry and glanced at the title of the book she was holding out to her.

"What business does a second-year have in medieval architecture?" Madam Pince asked shrewdly.

Harry snatched the book from Hermione's hand and slammed it on the table she had been working on, "Nothing, Madam Pince."

He grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her from the library and hurried her towards the Grand Staircase. He didn't let go until they were at least on the Fourth Floor of the staircase. Hermione rubbed her wrist and stood at the bottom of the stairs whilst Harry ran up ahead of her. He noticed that she wasn't following her and called for her, "Come on, hurry!"

"For what?"

"You'll see, come _on!_"

Hermione let of a sound of exasperation and she climbed the staircase and hastily went on behind him when he heard her name being called. She stopped.

"Malfoy?"

Hermione watched as Malfoy sauntered from the Fourth Floor corridor. Hermione was half-tempted to run up the stairs, but she stayed rooted to the spot. "What do you want?"

"I want to be friends."

For some reason, Hermione could feel bile rising in her throat. It wasn't that she didn't want to be friends with Malfoy, in fact, there was a moment where Hermione was going to agree to his offer of friendship, but she had her reservations. There was a moment, a long time ago, where Lauren… she shuddered, pushing it from her mind. She cautiously nodded.

"What made you want to be friends?" Hermione asked, there was suspicion in her tone.

"I just…." Malfoy rain a hand through his hair, so that several parts now stuck up, quite a change from its usual flattened state. "I love Lacie, and I just… and, over the summer, with my Father and… you know…"

"Right," Hermione said slowly and walked down the stairs towards Malfoy, "But don't you hate my guts? Don't you wish I wasn't around?" She paused, weighing up her choice of words. "Don't wish that I was the next Muggle-born to be attacked by the Heir?"

Hermione watched him pale before her and he played with the edge of his sleeve, "No, I don't Granger."

His voice was small, and he looked up at her and his cheeks went pink. He looked down again. Hermione didn't understand it, but something in her gut believed him. He confused her. One minute he was wishing her dead to his friends, and the next, protecting her with the mirror. Of course, if she brought it up now, he'd deny it with every breath in his lungs. Hermione wondered if he was pretending to be horrible about her because he thought they would appreciate it, seeing as they were pretending to be his friends. To be honest, what Hermione did was far worse when it came to Wizarding Law and Malfoy, who was simply expressing his opinions, was not as bad.

"Hermione!" Harry called her from the top of the stairs. She froze. She completely forgot that she was supposed to be following Harry to the Common Room for some unknown reason. Well, _it wasn't as if Lockhart was signing textbooks in there_. There was no particular rush.

"I'll be a minute! I've dropped a book and parchment has gone everywhere."

"Oh, well! Hurry up!" he shouted in exasperation. Hermione sighed and walked into the corridor so Harry couldn't see whom she was talking to. The last thing she wanted was Harry to size up Malfoy. Malfoy followed her into the empty corridor.

"Anything else, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, suddenly not minding that Malfoy was there. Whatever was in the Common Room probably wasn't even at all exciting. For all she knew, Seamus had found another way to set himself alight, and smoke was emanating from his ears. Not exactly what Hermione would call exciting.

He looked anxious, frightened and determined, somehow at the same time. He went into his pockets and said with a determined voice, "Mother had these imported from France. She asked me to share."

Malfoy held out a packet with three small chocolate balls to Hermione's surprise, "Oh?"

"They're freshly made truffles, probably only made yesterday, and they have to be eaten quite soon, or they… won't taste as nice," Malfoy said, almost urging her.

"Right, well, thank you," Hermione said awkwardly but as she went to put them in her pocket but Malfoy motioned for her to stop.

"You should eat them now," he said rather persistently, and Hermione faltered.

_Was this going to be a practical joke? Were the truffles small balls of dragon dung? _Hermione eyed them dubiously. She brought them closer to her nose, and gave them a cursory sniff. Instead of a pungent smell, she could smell a delightful chocolate scent. It smelt like a chocolate dessert that Grandmother Granger would often make when she and her cousins visited her.

However, Malfoy's persistence deterred her from eating them, she could have ate them later. She narrowed her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I want to see your face, when you realise that these truffles are the tastiest things you've ever eaten in your Mud…" he stopped his retort mid-word and swallowed, "your life."

"I think…"

x-x-x-x-x

Harry stomped impatiently on the Sixth Floor, watching the stairs move again. They had missed a chance to get to the Common Room _again_. Harry peered over the bannister to see Hermione. There was nothing.

"Hermione!" Harry called down, to where she was stood before. It was typical. The one day that there was something genuinely exciting going on and Hermione was going to miss all the fun. Well, she wasn't going to _miss _it exactly, but she could be quicker. Harry couldn't wait to see her face.

It took Harry longer than usual to realise that there was no reply. _Funny_, he thought to himself, _that was at least a minute._

"Hermione!" Harry shouted a bit louder and strained his ears to listen for a reply. Aside from the rustling of the portraits, there was nothing. Had Hermione disappeared?

Suddenly, something cold and unwelcome shot through Harry's veins. _No, it can't be. _He ran down the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time, jumping haphazardly and _just_ making certain moving stairs. He was at the Fourth Floor within a minute, hoping that he would not see Hermione… he shook the thought out of his head immediately. She was going to be fine. She was… he rounded a corner into the corridor and his heart battered his ribcage with increasing intensity.

"HERMIONE!" Harry yelled out, running towards her fallen figure, frozen with foam poking out from her blue lips. She was still with her pupils were dilated to the size of her irises. She was unmoving. Harry shook her in disbelief, as he was unable to comprehend what had happened to her. He hadn't heard a thing. Tears, hot and wet slipping down his face. He could have saved her! With every petrification he had heard the disembodied voice, yet his excitement and lack of attention led to _this_. Harry had to get her to the Hospital Wing. Maybe because it was early Madam Pomfrey could do something. Hermione didn't look like any of the others who had been petrified.

Using all the strength he could summon, he tried to lift her up, but he couldn't manage to do it. He wasn't strong enough! He pulled her limp body up, so he could try and get her to the Hospital Wing, which was on the same floor. He only needed to make it down the corridor. Pulling her arm over his shoulder, and grabbing her waist, he dragged Hermione along. Harry would never say this about her aloud but she was _heavy_. He didn't know how to put her on his back, where it might be easier, but slowly he managed to take a few more steps.

Sweat formed under his thick, messy hair. He distracted his thoughts of worry with anger. Rage at who had done this to one of his best friends. His thoughts went briefly to Malfoy, who had sent her to the Hospital Wing last year, but there was… _he isn't the Heir of Slytherin_… he wanted Hermione to be the next victim, _did he lure her to the Heir?_

"HELP!" Harry shouted, feet away from the Hospital Wing door, Hermione's feet were dragging along the floor, slipping slightly under his grip. Harry steadied himself, pulled her up, and kept on going, "HELP!"

The door to the Hospital Wing opened slightly and relief washed as the silhouette of the matron peered at him. Harry could barely shout for help for the third time as his throat had constricted. Madam Pomfrey bounded out, rushing to his side immediately, taking the other side of Hermione and helping carry her into the safety of the Hospital Wing.

x-x-x-x-x

Draco ran, down flights of stairs, down, down, down. As he found himself in the Dungeons of the school, his legs buckled slightly. He held onto the wall and heard his breath come out in quick gasps. It felt as if a cold sweat now covered his skin. A lump had formed in his throat. Calm footsteps could be heard behind him. _I am going to be sick._

"Well, well, well, Malfoy," a voice rebounded off the stone walls, "You outdid yourself."

Draco launched himself at Zabini. He was angry. Sick. Scared. He grabbed the lapels of his robes and pushed him against the wall. "What did you put in those truffles?"

"It wasn't as if I put Belladonna in them," Zabini said coolly. Draco didn't know where he summoned the strength from, but he pulled Zabini ever-so-slightly away from the wall and pushed him harder into it.

"What was in those truffles?" Draco's voice was a deadly snarl. Zabini's smug expression dropped and Draco appreciated the fear in his eyes.

"Doxy venom, it's not too toxic, _I swear_," Zabini said quietly. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"You could have killed her!" Draco hissed, "You do realise that this wasn't just some ordinary prank?"

"_We _could have killed her," Zabini said, smugness now ebbing in his voice. "Don't forget you had much more involvement than I did in this."

Draco went cold. Zabini had planned it out so that Draco would get implicated, and take the blame for everything. If Granger so much as whispered his name… _Father._ Zabini used Draco's hesitation to push him back with as much force as to make Draco stumble and almost trip over his robes. Zabini walked confidently down the corridor towards the Common Room.

"Don't worry Malfoy, Doxy venom does have an amnesiac effect," Zabini said, pausing and looking at him over his shoulder, "If _you_ don't say anything, _I_ won't."

Draco forced himself not to shudder at the threatening tone of Zabini's words. As Zabini rounded a corner away from him, Draco punched the wall and he felt the unevenness of the stone against his knuckles as he sunk to his knees. He wanted to cry. He had never done something quite so _cruel_ before. He wasn't like that. It was a complete front. Everything was a front. He could hear Granger's chokes in the recesses of his subconscious. He would have nightmares over what he did. He leant his head against the wall, temptation to run to where he had left her overwhelmed him, but he was still.

They would be suspicious if he went back. He closed his eyes. _Granger looking at him with a kind smile. Granger putting the truffle in her mouth. Granger's surprise and her delighted face, which was a face, that seemed to make the sun shine on the Fourth Floor. Then seconds later, the sound of her choking, the colour draining out of her face and the sight of Granger falling onto a wall and sliding down it to the ground. _He couldn't stop his head recounting the sounds of her choking, and the sight of foam coming from her mouth. She could hear her plea for help reverberate through him. He felt nauseous, a feeling that was crawling up his throat.

_I have no guilt. I have no regrets. I am a clean slate. Everything is wiped clean. _Draco thought of the candle, the candle of emotions and blew it out as hard as he could in his mind. It was just mindless fun. The venom wasn't very toxic. She would not die. Even if she was stuck in the Hospital Wing, it only meant she was safe from the Heir of Slytherin. She would not die. He shouldn't worry. She would get better. She would be in classes to irritate him soon. It'll be fine. Everything is fine. _I don't even like her. She's nothing but a dirty Mudblood. _

He stood up with his new resolve, shrugged his shoulders and walked to the Common Room.

As he stepped through the door, he was acutely aware that people were looking at him. Finding Theo in the corner of the Common Room, he strode across, as if it actually did own everything in the room.

"Are you alright?" Theo asked quietly, making eye contact with him momentarily before looking down.

"Spectacular, Theo," Draco said with a small smirk. He looked across at _his _seat next to Pansy and narrowed his eyes at Zabini. Pansy, prodded Zabini to move. There was a shuffling of people and Draco sat down, smiling at Pansy. She blushed in response.

"Are you really fine, Draco?" Pansy whispered. "We heard what happened."

"Pansy," Draco sighed, "I _told _you that I don't even _like_ Granger."

He looked over at Zabini who had a sour look on his face and Draco grinned at him. Zabini's sour look only deepened. Continuing to smile, Draco spoke to Zabini with a sickly sweet tone, "Ever get me involved in something as immature as that prank _again_, Zabini, and I'll drop you faster than you can say 'Doxy'"

x-x-x-x-x

Hermione stirred. Everything felt so strange, as if someone had cracked a large egg and the yolk was running down her body. The first thing she noticed was the dryness of her mouth, the prickly sensation of her tongue. She could barely gulp as her throat was swollen.

"Madam Pomfrey! She's waking up!" a concerned voice was above her. Something let go of her hand. Hermione coughed, her head moving forward and her eyes popped open. She could see the school matron above her, twirling her wand, muttering something under her breath.

"Wa…ter…" Hermione gasped, her mouth felt uncomfortable.

"Not right now, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey's voice floated around her, and she could barely hear what she was saying. She could hear sounds of disapproval. A moment later, something was pushed into her mouth.

"Drink up, Hermione," a soft voice commanded. Hermione sipped on the straw and a beverage tasting of lavender filled her mouth. Hermione wanted to spit it out, as it was a strange, alien taste but her body didn't allow her to. She swallowed. Her mouth was grateful for the drink and it seemed too soon that she had finished the drink.

"Get well soon, Hermione," the soft voice said, wobbling slightly. The straw was taken out of her mouth and soon it was replaced by another straw. This drink tasted of nothing. Even water had a taste, but this drink had the sensation of a liquid but it did not have any sort of flavour at all.

Soon, Hermione felt herself drifting. The murmurs around her became quieter and quieter and dulled to a blackening quiet.

x-x-x-x-x

"… The prognosis doesn't look good, Albus, the venom isn't passing through her system as expected… I fear…"

"Cor aut mors, Miss Granger, remember that, find the harder path," a kind voice said by her side.

"Albus…"

"I'll have to notify her parents tomorrow…"

"If it doesn't get better, she'll have to go to St. Mungo's…" Hermione recognised Madam Pomfrey's voice and it was getting sterner. "I'm sorry, Albus."

"Fawkes…"

"Fawkes is being worn down to make the Mandrake solution more effective, Doxy venom…"

"Fawkes will be fine, Poppy! Phoenix tears have amazing capabilities, you of all people should know that…"

"Yes, Albus, but you must realise I'm doing my best given the circumstances."

A sigh. "I know, Poppy. The events of this school year have been demanding, first Petrifications and now a Doxy poisoning, I don't want the students to fear a place that should be a second home."

"I understand, Albus… I understand."

x-x-x-x-x

"Have you heard? Hermione Granger…"

"_Petrified? No…"_

"Apparently… no one's seen her, especially with Lacerta Malfoy."

"_Lacerta Malfoy's back? I thought she was expelled!"_

Lacie could hear the murmuring about her, and Hermione on the first day of term at Hogwarts. She shot the whispering third-years a look that paled them and they hurried away. She could barely contain her contempt as she walked towards the Great Hall.

"Why are people not content with their own lives and so they must talk about other people?" Lacie asked Harry in a curt voice. Harry didn't respond to her, he simply stared at her and blushed when she noticed him doing it. "_What_, Potter?"

That seemed to make him smile slightly, "Since when did you call me Potter?"

"Since you have barely spoken to me on my return," Lacie replied wryly. "Then again, I suppose we have little to say to each other about."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but to Lacie's disappointment, he closed it and did not say anything.

"Do you know who did it?" Lacie asked quietly, hoping Harry would have remembered something else, something insignificant yet important. Professor McGonagall had spoken to him at length over the incident. No one had seen or heard anything. No portraits either. If someone did know something about it, they weren't speaking. It sounds oddly _Slytherin. _Lacie didn't want to even process the next thought, _Draco_. Draco could play pranks, Lacie was too familiar with them, but he wouldn't knowingly poison someone with _Doxy venom_. That was something that wasn't playful or fun, Lacie knew that Draco wouldn't play with fire if he could get burned.

"I blame myself," Harry said all-too-honestly and quietly, "I shouldn't have rushed ahead."

Lacie stopped, whirling to face Harry, he flinched expecting wrath, but Lacie smiled. "You couldn't have known."

"I should have been at her side."

"Harry," Lacie said, her tone was angrier than she had expected, "Don't blame yourself instead blame the person who poisoned her. Blame the person who thought it would be funny to almost kill my best friend. You tried to save her life, Harry, you're the most blameless person in all of this."

Harry's eyes widened under his spectacles for a moment, and his cheeks went pinker. He didn't say anything to her, but he rushed off in search of breakfast. Lacie followed. Her thoughts consumed her, fearing slightly that it was Draco who had poisoned Hermione.

Lacie could see seventh-years gaping at her as she entered the Great Hall. On the Gryffindor table, she noticed Ron talking fervently to Neville, who's cheeks had gotten slightly rounder in her absence. Ron spotted them and waved slightly causing people around him to look. Lavender Brown nudged Parvati and Cheryl leaned in to whisper something. Lacie rolled her eyes.

"I have some things to do," Lacie said quickly to Harry, "I'll see you in a minute."

With that, Lacie determinedly went in the direction of the Slytherin Table, rushing past interested faces and stopping only behind her twin. Pansy Parkinson almost spilled her pumpkin juice over herself in shock at the sight of her. Lacie gave her a pointed look and she shifted over, leaving a space for her next to Draco. Lacie climbed into the bench and sat beside her brother.

"Morning," she said brightly, taking the toast from his fingers and bit into it. It was a childhood habit of hers, one that Draco had never appreciated. Draco glared tiredly at her, before reaching for another slice of toast.

"Lacie." The greeting is cold, short and very… _sulky_.

"You wouldn't happen to know what happened to Hermione, do you?" Lacie didn't bother with social niceties that were expected of her after seeing her brother for the first time in months. She wanted to know something _now_ and she wasn't going to go around in circles to find her answer.

Draco chewed slowly on his toast. He swallowed and said, "No. What happened to her?"

"Poisoned with Doxy venom, not _Petrified _like everyone seems to think," Lacie said emphatically, "Are you sure you don't know anything about it?"

Her voice was filled expectantly with hope, praying to Merlin that Draco had nothing to do with Hermione's poisoning. He wouldn't. It was against her better judgement, but Lacie had faith in her brother. It may only be scraps of faith but it was still there.

"Where am I going to get Doxy venom from?" Draco asked lazily, "I've been at Hogwarts for Christmas."

Lacie's sigh of relief came out involuntarily. Draco raised an eyebrow as he ate his breakfast, causing Lacie to explain herself, "The person who did it, may as well have killed her."

Lacie noticed Draco freeze slightly and said cautiously, "Draco?"

"Sorry," said Draco briskly, setting the crusts of his toast on his plate, "I once said something silly about Granger dying, _but it was a joke_." Draco must have noticed her tightening face.

"Because a Muggleborn _died_ the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened?" Lacie hissed, garnering attention from the breakfasters around them, all of whom who had stopped eating in fear that their own chewing would be too loud to hear their conversation. "That isn't funny, Draco, you shouldn't have said it. How awful would you have felt if she was attacked and really died?"

Her brother didn't respond. There was an awkward pause, as her childhood friends turned enemies watched them. Although polar opposites, people seemed to focus on their similarities. Lacie let out an irritated, held-in breath. "So what is this Heir of Slytherin attacking Muggleborn business? Have I really been away _that _long?"

"I don't know, Lace, but I'm positive that I'm not the Heir of Slytherin attacking people," Draco sighed at her, "Despite who has spoken to you since you got back."

Lacie rolled her eyes, throwing her half-eaten toast onto Draco's plate and wiped her hands on an emerald napkin. She pulled on her tie in front of Draco and grinned.

"Of course you're not the Heir, Merlin forbid our dear Salazar let one of his Heirs be Sorted into Godric's House," Lacie teased. Draco sighed.

"Did Beauxbatons fail to teach you grace?" Draco asked, a smile forming at the edge of his lips.

"I _have _grace - …" Lacie retorted but she was interrupted by the very stern Professor McGonagall. Lacie had not forgotten her too quickly during her time at Beauxbatons and her History of Dance teacher, Professor Aurélie, had the same firm attitude to her students.

"Have you forgotten what House you were Sorted into, Miss Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall asked with pursed lips.

"No, Professor," Lacie answered, "I was giving my brother the pleasure of my presence, seeing as he missed me ever so much."

Professor McGonagall did not look amused. However, she couldn't look too angry, considering for the first time in her knowledge, the Malfoy twins were not sparring.

"Here, Miss Malfoy," the Professor said wearily, handing over a piece of parchment, "Your timetable, you'll notice two hours of remedial classes with Professor Cornwall at the end of each day, in order to make sure you will complete this years syllabus in time for the exams."

Lacie sighed. _An extra two hours per weekday? _She had so many classes in Beauxbatons added with extra ballet, art and French classes, that it had left her exhausted at the end of every day. She noticed no remedial classes on the weekends, which was comforting. She had hated the five hours of compulsory ballet she had attended every weekend at Beauxbatons. She had been rated an Intermediate, much to the chagrin of her classmates. To them, a 12 year-old dancing with 15 year-old girls was an insult, especially because she was _anglaise_. Miss Belle-Faire had taught her well. She forced herself out of her reverie.

"I understand, Professor," Lacie said to the waiting Professor.

"Good. You might want to finish breakfasting soon," she warned the people in the vicinity, "Lessons start in a few minutes and Mister Malfoy, as much as it pleases me to hear that you have missed your sister dearly, I won't be sympathetic if you are late to my class."

She whirled around quickly before stopping a little and turning. Saying with a content smile, "Welcome back, Miss Malfoy. It's been quite quiet without you causing chaos within my House."

x-x-x-x-x

Hermione felt an odd sensation of falling, but she wasn't falling anywhere, she was still in bed. Sunlight seemed to dance through her closed eyes. Hermione could feel a spider crawling up her arm. Hermione jerked awake and the ceiling above her was a bright white that she winced. Her mouth was parched, but this wasn't an unusual sensation. Every time Hermione seemed to come out of darkness and into a haze, her mouth felt sandpapery.

"Hermione?" there was a tired yawn.

For the first time in her periods of haze and darkness, the haze seemed to dissipate. She had hard flickers of conversation, for a moment she thought she had heard her fathers struggling voice near her mother's sobs. Hermione blinked. She recognised that voice that just said her name. She had heard that voice several times through the haze.

"Miss Granger," an older voice spoke out, and she knew this was the voice of Madam Pomfrey.

Something was poking into her mouth and she drank, the lavender liquid once more. Even after drinking it, her throat felt raw.

"Thanks…" she whispered hoarsely. It felt like the first time that she had spoken in weeks. Years even. How long had she even been asleep? Was it really years? "What year is it?"

She had spoken before she had even processed that thought. It was a silly thought. She definitely hadn't been in a haze for several years. There was a giggle and she felt her hand in someone else's and it was brushing against something soft.

"I'll get the Grangers!" another voice called out. This voice had been in the haze too, although, less frequently. Not as frequent as the soft one that had said her name. She could see Madam Pomfrey with her wand, above her, murmuring a little. A few moments later, she stopped and a small smile graced her face, making it appear years younger.

"The venom has passed out of your bloodstream. You are a very lucky girl, Miss Granger," she said brightly, "Would you like some help sitting up?"

Hermione nodded, confused, _am I in the Hospital Wing? Why? What happened? _Snippets of conversations passed through her mind but they were too faded to remember. She could remember voices. That was all. She remembered a conversation about phoenix tears. Madam Pomfrey sat at her bedside and helped her up, adjusting her pillows as she went. She was placed in a bed that was curtained. An array of flowers and cards were on her bedside table. People must thought she was Petrified. In fact, had she been Petrified? She couldn't remember anything. She glanced around and saw something that made her heart leap out of her chest.

"Lacie?" Hermione croaked. This was a dream. It had to be.

"Oh, Hermione!" Lacie said crying slightly, "Thank Merlin you've woken up!"

* * *

_A/N: I hope everyone has had a lovely Easter. I do sincerely apologise that this story is taking so long to update. Sometimes I forget that people actually read this story, and unfortunately the next chapter may not be for a while because: EXAMS. I am constantly taking exams, I have noticed. _

_YAY Lacie's back. YAY Draco scenes. YAY twin scenes (I like writing D/L scenes, although, it seems OOC here - may have to clear that up soon, because there is an actual non-Lacie-getting-revenge reason). _

_I really wanted the Hermione in the Hospital Wing and getting the omg she's Petrified kind of thing going and my sister and I came up with the Doxy venom plan, and it sounds really really mean, but like... I don't know anything about Doxy venom aside from you're not supposed to EAT it because it would make you very, very sick hence why F&G use it in Skiving Snackboxes. I may have made it a bit more melodramatic, but you know, Harry Potter would not be the same without it's overdramatic sequences, artistic license and all. _

_Erm, what else do I have to explain myself for? I don't quite know. I'll probably find it when it's not 3am. _

_As always, my dear readers, _

_Becky. _


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